


Land of Regrets and Second Chances

by messageredacted



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe, Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Growing Up, Hemospectrum, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Post-Scratch, Prejudice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:17:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 110,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messageredacted/pseuds/messageredacted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your wriggling day is in three days, and while you normally celebrate this event with the apathy it deserves, this particular sweep is different. That’s because it will be your eighth sweep, and it happens to coincide with the arrival of the imperial drones. This is a milestone that every troll looks forward to with a heady combination of excitement and terror. For most trolls, when they reach their eighth sweep, they become adults.</p><p>Not you.</p><p>When you reach your eighth sweep, you will die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My eternal gratitude goes to my best bro and better beta [shellfishDimes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shellfishDimes) (this alliteration worked better on [Tumblr](http://msgrdctd.tumblr.com/post/21018840259/land-of-regrets-and-second-chances-1-28)), who has tirelessly kicked this fic into shape. It wouldn’t be what it is without her.

**Karkat**

It’s the twelfth bilunar perigee of the sixth dark season’s equinox of the eighth sweep of your life, and you’re probably having the worst week ever. Which is quite a feat, since your life so far has been one spectacular fuckup after another.

Your wriggling day is in three days, and while you normally celebrate this event with the apathy it deserves, this particular sweep is different. That’s because it will be your eighth sweep, and it happens to coincide with the arrival of the imperial drones. This is a milestone that every troll looks forward to with a heady combination of excitement and terror. For most trolls, when they reach their eighth sweep, they become adults.

Not you.

When you reach your eighth sweep, you will die.

Actually, this is not entirely true. You have no intention of dying in three days. You have been planning your escape for quite some time. When the imperial drones come, you will be long gone. They can’t cull what they can’t catch. You’re born to run. You have a need for speed. You, uh. Hope to at least last a week in the grublands before you get eaten by ravenous hordes of the undead.

Your husktop chimes with a new message, distracting you from your apathetic attempt at sorting through your movies. Ugh, what do these fuckers want from you.

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

GC: H4V3NT YOU L3FT Y3T?   
CG: I'M TOUCHED  
CG: I'M SO GLAD TO SEE HOW MUCH YOU CARE.  
GC: >:[ TH3 1MP3R14L DRON3S W1LL B3 H3R3 1N THR33 D4YS. TH3YLL B3 LOOK1NG FOR RUNN3RS.   
CG: I HAVE A LOT TO DO, OKAY.   
GC: YOU H4V3 LOTS OF 1RONS 1N TH3 F1R3? >:]   
CG: OF COURSE I DO.  
CG: I’M KIND OF A BIG DEAL.  
CG: ANYWAY SOLLUX IS THE ONE WHO’S TAKING HIS SWEET FUCKING TIME ABOUT IT.  
CG: IT’S ALMOST LIKE THE NOOKSNIFFER WANTS TO END UP ON THE WRONG END OF A CULLING FORK.  
CG: I’D HAVE LEFT A WEEK AGO IF IT WEREN’T FOR HIM.   
GC: YOU M34N H3 D1DNT T3LL YOU? H3H3H3H3H3   
CG: TELL ME WHAT?   
GC: H3S NOT GO1NG W1TH YOU!   
CG: WHAT.   
GC: H3 GOT 4 B3TT3R OFF3R! H3H3H3H3 

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG]  ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC] \--

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG]  began trolling twinArmageddons [TA] \--

CG: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ABOUT.  
CG: TELL ME THAT TEREZI IS JUST BEING AN UTTER BULGEWIPE.   
TA: oh my god.  
TA: ii only ju2t told her two fucking 2econds ago.  
TA: 2eriiou2ly.   
CG: WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME FIRST?  
CG: DID IT NOT OCCUR TO YOU THAT MAYBE I WAS A SLIGHTLY HIGHER PRIORITY, SINCE I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU FOR A FUCKING WEEK?  
CG: I COULD BE HALFWAY THROUGH THE GRUBLANDS BY NOW.   
TA: waiitiing for me? dont be 2tupiid. you were the one whiiniing about haviing two pack.  
TA: liike iit2 really that iimportant that you not leave behiind any of your preciou2 moviie2.   
CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP.  
CG: DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT.  
CG: WHY AREN’T YOU GOING?   
TA: logii2tiically iit work2 better thii2 way.  
TA: ii cant giive you a new iidentiity iif ii dont have acce22 two the computer2.   
CG: AND YOU THINK YOU’LL HAVE BETTER ACCESS WHEN SOME BLUEBLOOD USES YOU TO FLY HIS SHIP UNTIL GRUBSAUCE DRIBBLES OUT YOUR EARS.  
CG: GREAT FUCKING IDEA.   
TA: iim not goiing two be a shiip.  
TA: certaiinly not ju2t for your benefiit.  
TA: ff2 going two take care of iit.   
CG: TAKE CARE OF IT.  
CG: HOW.   
TA: 2he2 goiing two be the next conde2ce.  
TA: iif 2he want2 me a2 her per2onal 2lave, theyll liisten two her.   
CG: HER PERSONAL SLAVE.  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK.  
CG: YOU ACTUALLY AGREED TO THAT.   
TA: iit2 the be2t optiion.   
CG: NO IT'S FUCKING NOT.  
CG: RUNNING AWAY WITH ME IS THE BEST FUCKING OPTION.   
TA: runniing away wiith you.  
TA: 2pendiing week2 avoiiding monster2 iin the grubland2.  
TA: then tryiing two get iinto the ciity wiithout any 2ort of paper2.  
TA: and no hope of fakiing any wiithout acce22 to the iimperiial databa2e.   
CG: YEAH.   
TA: my way ii2 better.   
CG: THE REAL CONDESCE’S PEOPLE WILL BE TRYING TO ASSASSINATE FEF ANY CHANCE THEY GET.  
CG: ONCE YOU’RE IN THE SYSTEM AS A SLAVE, YOU’LL BE STUCK.   
TA: kk.  
TA: have a liittle faiith iin me.  
TA: ii know what iim doiing.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling  carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

CG: FUCK.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling  twinArmageddons [TA] \--

Sollux is probably right, but it’s not like you’d ever admit it. You irritably close the Trollian window and get up from your desk again. Your hive is an utter wreck. You’ve been going through everything you own, trying to decide what you can take with you and what has to stay behind. You manage to get Gamzee to promise to take your whole box set of Troll Grey’s Anatomy, and Terezi has the top twenty five DVDs you didn’t think you could live without. You gave up on your encryption modus sweeps ago, and right now you just have a basic array modus, which is really fucking boring and you’re kind of embarrassed to talk about it but you can’t be fucking around with complicated modi when you’re out in the grublands. You’ve packed and unpacked your sylladex two dozen times so far. You’ll probably take it all out again tonight just to make sure everything’s right.

Three days.

No, less than that. If you’re going to be honest, you probably only have a day. The imperial drones will be here in three days to start processing all the trolls who reached eight sweeps since their last visit. Everyone knows that there are trolls who try to run, and the culling drones will be out surrounding the area probably a day or two early to make sure no one gets through. If you want to avoid them entirely, it’s best if you leave tonight.

There’s a noise down the hall. It’s the familiar scrape of exoskeleton on plaster. Your lusus is making his slow rounds. You know this pattern by heart. You can’t really communicate with your lusus through anything more sophisticated than body language and miming, but over the sweeps you’ve learned each other’s habits. You don’t strife nearly as much as you used to.

And right there is the reason why you probably won’t be leaving tonight.

Lusi don’t usually survive the loss of their troll charges. Adult trolls don’t usually take their lusi with them when they leave the grublands. Either they’re left to fend for themselves and maybe find a new wiggler to raise, or else they go crazy with grief and get culled by the drones. And if you run— _when_ you run—the drones will put your lusus down. You don’t know if your lusus understands that. You don’t have any way of telling him.

He appears in the doorway, his legs tapping the floor as he moves past. His pale compound eye swivels to follow you for a moment before he passes the doorway and disappears from sight. You are so consumed with guilt that for a moment you just stand there and listen to him move to the end of the hall.

Someone is trolling you.

\-- adiosToreador [AT] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

AT: uMMM,  
AT: eQUIUS HAS A REALLY BIG HIVE,  
AT: yOU SHOULD VISIT,   
CG: KIND OF RUNNING OUT OF TIME HERE TAV.  
CG: I HAVE SO MANY IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO.   
AT: vRISKA IS HERE,   
CG: OH WELL IN THAT CASE.  
CG: SIGN ME UP.  
CG: PSYCHO SPIDERBITCH IS LIKE CATNIP FOR ME.  
CG: JUST MENTION HER NAME AND I'M THERE.  
CG: I'M LIKE EQUIUS UNROLLING A FRESH CANVAS FULL OF MUSCLEBEAST ASS.   
AT: sWEATY AND UNCOMFORTABLE?   
CG: FUCKING DRENCHED.   
AT: uMMM, oKAY, i GET THAT YOU’RE BEING SARCASTIC,  
AT: sINCE THAT’S YOUR THING,  
AT: bUT, uMM, iT WOULD BE COOL IF YOU WERE HERE,  
AT: sINCE WE MAY NEVER SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN,   
CG: YOU TOO, HUH.  
CG: “HAVEN’T YOU LEFT YET?”  
CG: “WHEN ARE YOU LEAVING?”  
CG: “LET’S TAKE BETS ON HOW SOON KARKAT GETS EATEN BY AN UNDEAD MUSCLEBEAST”  
CG: I’M JUST SO LUCKY TO HAVE FRIENDS LIKE YOU.   
AT: tHAT’S, nOT REALLY WHAT i MEANT,  
AT: i MEAN, i GUESS IT SORT OF IS,  
AT: bUT,  
AT: wHAT i MEANT WAS JUST THAT i WANTED TO SEE YOU,  
AT: bEFORE YOUR TRIP,   
CG: DON'T TAKE THIS THE WRONG WAY.  
CG: OR YOU KNOW WHAT, KNOCK YOURSELF OUT AND DO.  
CG: BUT IF I EVER HAVE TO WATCH EQUIUS CUT YOU IN HALF TO FIT YOU WITH ROBOT LEGS  
CG: I MAY HAVE TO GOUGE OUT MY EYEBALLS WITH MY OWN CLAWS.   
AT: i DON’T THINK IT’LL BE THAT BAD,  
AT: i MEAN, eQUIUS KNOWS WHAT HE’S DOING,  
AT: mORE OR LESS,   
CG: AND OBVIOUSLY HE’S DOING THIS FAVOR FOR A LOWBLOOD OUT OF THE KINDNESS OF HIS HEART.   
AT: wHAT,  
AT: nO,  
AT: aRADIA ASKED HIM TO,  
AT: bUT i DON’T THINK HE’S THAT BAD,  
AT: i MEAN HE IS, bUT,  
AT: hE’S NOT,  
AT: yOU KNOW?   
CG: EITHER YOU’RE GETTING FLUSHED FOR HIM OR YOU’RE SPENDING TOO MUCH TIME TALKING TO GAMZEE.   
AT: uHH,  
AT: tHE LATTER i THINK,  
AT: iT SORT OF MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE TO THINK ABOUT eQUIUS LIKE THAT,   
CG: YEAH ACTUALLY THAT THOUGHT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE TOO.   
AT: sO,  
AT: i GUESS THIS IS GOODBYE,  
AT: aND GOOD LUCK,   
CG: SOLLUX ISN’T COMING WITH ME.   
AT: yEAH, hE TOLD ME,   
CG: WHAT.  
CG: WHEN DID HE TELL YOU?   
AT: uHHHH,  
AT: hALF AN HOUR AGO,  
AT: rIGHT AFTER HE TOLD vRISKA,   
CG: THAT FUCKING BULGEREEK.  
CG: IF I GET CULLED BY THE IMPERIAL DRONES  
CG: OR EATEN BY THE RAVENOUS UNDEAD  
CG: OR GET CAUGHT OUT IN SUNLIGHT AND SUCCUMB TO HIDEOUS BURNS  
CG: OR, YOU KNOW, BASICALLY IF ANY OF THE BILLION THINGS THAT CAN GO WRONG DO GO WRONG ON THIS TRIP THROUGH THE GRUBLANDS  
CG: WE CAN TRACE IT RIGHT BACK HERE TO THAT FUCKASS DECIDING TO INFORM EVERYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD ABOUT HIS PLANS BEFORE HE BOTHERED TALKING TO ME.  
CG: I AM FUCKING DONE WITH HIM PROFESSIONALLY.   
AT: yOU KNOW,  
AT: hE’S DOING THIS TO SAVE YOUR LIFE,   
CG: LET’S JUST HOPE I DON’T DIE BEFORE HE GETS THE CHANCE.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG]  ceased trolling adiosToreador [AT] \--

AT: bYE,

\-- adiosToreador [AT] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

  


* * *

  


You have a map. Actually it’s cobbled together from a bunch of old FLARPing maps that Tavros and Terezi gave you. You have never played those games for girls but you have to admit the maps are kind of useful, since they have notes about where you can avoid being ambushed by enemies. Sure, it’s meant to be used by FLARPers, but FLARPers have to avoid the real world dangers just as much as you will. That’s what makes extreme role playing so dangerous. And so stupid.

The air in your respiteblock is cold against your skin. You’ve been fucking around with packing and unpacking for at least four hours now. You slot your movies back onto the shelf, a ridiculously futile gesture. When you flee, your hive will be looted by your neighbors, who frankly don’t have the impeccable taste in movies that you do. Your husktop will probably be the first to go, since you can’t really take that with you. At least you have your palmhusk, which should keep you connected to everyone as you make your solitary way through the grublands. Not that they can actually come and help if you need it.

Everything your neighbors don’t take will be left to rot, until your hive gets razed to make room for a new one. Putting things away is not doing anyone any favors, especially you, but it does give you something to do with your hands, and if you don’t have something to do, you’re going to have to face the fact that it’s time to leave.

Of course, now that you’ve had that thought, you have to face that fact. Fuck this shit. You can’t keep wasting your time.

Downstairs, your lusus is grumbling to himself. You can hear him as you descend the stairs, and pity lurches in your chitinous windhole again. You find him in the culinary block. Just outside the door, you equip your sickle, then step through.

“I’m going,” you say, even though you know that your lusus doesn’t understand you. You rest a hand on his carapace. The exoskeleton is cool and smooth and hard under your fingers. His eye swivels toward you, black and shiny. You keep your other hand with the sickle behind your back so he doesn’t see it.

“I won’t see you again,” you said, fighting really hard to keep your voice from trembling. Your lusus senses that you’re upset. He shifts his heavy bulk toward you, and one massive claw scrapes the floor. He bumps against you and you step back. Tears spill stupidly down your cheeks.

“The imperial drones are coming, and they’ll cull you. If you fight them, it’ll be bad.” You’ve lost the battle of keeping your voice even. “You shouldn’t fight them. But I know you will anyway. You’re a lot like me in that way.”

Your lusus rumbles. You stroke your fingers over his exoskeleton again and then abruptly step away and go to the thermal hull. You take out all of the roe cubes.

“Are you hungry?” you ask. You toss him one. He catches it in his maxillae, which ripple and move the roe cube up to his mandibles. You barely give him time to finish that one before you toss him another, and then you take all of the roe cubes out of the thermal hull and put them on the table within his reach.

Your lusus eagerly descends on the pile of roe cubes. You watch, your sickle in your hand. He’s not paying attention to you. He’s happy and he’s distracted and this is your chance. This is so much more merciful than the culling drones will ever be.

You hesitate, feeling sick, and then you unequip your sickle and throw your arms around your lusus, pressing your cheek against his carapace. He shifts, startled, and a hind pereiopod wraps around your leg in a gesture of affection.

“When they come for you, run,” you say against his back. “Just run.”

You stay for a moment longer and then peel yourself away, wiping at your face. You pat him on the carapace. He goes back to his interrupted feast.

You take one final look through your sylladex and square your shoulders. This is it. You're doing it.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC] \--

CG: THIS IS IT.  
CG: I'M OUT.  
CG: I'LL SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling terminallyCapricious [TC] \--

You’re making it happen.

  


* * *

  


\-- terminallyCapricious [TC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

TC: WaIt.  
TC: dOn’T gO yEt.  
TC: ChAnGe Of PlAnS.  
TC: sTiLl ThErE mY bRoThEr?  
TC: KaRkAt?


	2. Chapter 2

**Tavros**

Equius’s hive is one of the biggest you’ve ever seen. It’s tall and elegant, with sweeping arches and fragile turrets, which you really never would have suspected someone like Equius to design. It stands on the edge of a chasm, mirroring Vriska’s own hive, two dark blue silhouettes against the Alternian night sky.

Your own hive is a farmhouse with a windmill on a cliff, where everything is windy and open and salty from the breeze coming from the ocean below. It has taken you most of a day to travel across the grublands by train. Equius’s lusus meets you at the door and lets you into the house, and of course there are stairs everywhere. Luckily, you’re not as tightly wound and easily embarrassed as some trolls you know, so you let him carry you up the stairs to Equius’s respiteblock and workshop without much fuss. You let Tinkerbull out of your sylladex where you’ve been keeping him and he buzzes in the air around your heads as you climb.

Equius is standing at his workbench. Yellow sparks spray as he grinds metal. His shoulders are hunched and he seems deeply absorbed in the work, enough so that he barely notices when Aurthour sets you down in your four wheel device on a clean spot on the otherwise cluttered floor, which glitters with broken bits of metal and glass. A detached robot arm lies half under a table, wires spilling from its shattered joint. There are musclebeast paintings on the walls that really make you kind of uncomfortable and you prefer to avoid looking at them.

“Umm, hello,” you say.

“You will be quiet until I’m ready for you,” Equius replies without even lifting his head. The spray of sparks stops and he rummages around on his workbench for something else.

You shut up. You hear the sound of Aurthour’s hooves descending the stairs. Tinkerbull lands on top of a high shelf and begins grooming his wings. Equius starts hammering on the metal and the sound is painfully loud in the room. You take your husktop from your sylladex.

\-- adiosToreador [AT] began trolling apocalypseArisen [AA] \--

AT: uMMM, i’M HERE,  
AT: eQUIUS IS BUSY,  
AT: aRE YOU HERE?   
AA: im here  
AA: ill be d0wn in a m0ment

\-- apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased trolling adiosToreador [AT] \--

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling adiosToreador [AT] \--

TA: are you wiith eq yet?   
AT: yES,  
AT: i JUST ARRIVED,   
TA: tell hiim and aa that iim goiing wiith ff iin2tead.  
TA: he2 not an2weriing my me22age2.   
AT: oKAY,  
AT: i’LL TELL HIM,   
TA: iim almo2t done 2ettiing up the new chat cliient.  
TA: thii2 wiill keep u2 all iin touch wiithout beiing overheard.  
TA: iill send iit out two everyone toniight.   
AT: i LIKE tROLLIAN,    
TA: thii2 wiill be better 

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling adiosToreador [AT] \--

AT: oKAY, i GUESS,  
AT: i’LL TALK TO YOU LATER,

\-- adiosToreador [AT] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA] \--

\-- adiosToreador [AT] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC] \--

AT: hEY,  
AT: i’M HERE,   
TC: HeLl YeS mY bRoThEr.  
TC: YoU’rE aBoUt To GeT yOuR wAlK oN.  
TC: hOnK :o)   
AT: tHAT’S THE IDEA,  
AT: i GUESS,  
AT: i’M KIND OF NERVOUS,  
AT: bUT i HOPE,  
AT: iT TURNS OUT OKAY,   
TC: aWwWwW mY bEsT mOtHeRfUcKiN bRoThEr.  
TC: It WiLl TuRn OuT eXaCtLy As It HaS tO.  
TC: YoU jUsT gOtTa BeLiEvE.   
AT: i KNOW,  
AT: aND i THINK WHAT’S IMPORTANT HERE,  
AT: iS THAT YOU BELIEVE THAT,  
AT: sO YOU CAN BELIEVE FOR THE BOTH OF US,   
TC: hAhAhAhA aLrIgHt My BrO.  
TC: i WiLl GeT aLl Up In ThAt FoR yOu.

There is a noise in the hall of someone racing up the stairs. You can’t really imagine Aradia being that eager to see you. You raise your head in time to see Vriska arrive in the doorway, out of breath and grinning.

“Pupa!!!!!!!!” she exclaims. If this were text, you imagine there would be eight exclamation points after that. “Are you ready?”

“I guess so,” you say. “I mean, even if I’m not, we don’t have much time left.”

She bounds into the room and heads straight for the workbench. “This is going to be great.”

Equius sighs as Vriska leans over his work. “I don’t remember inviting you into my hive,” he says.

“Will you have control over his legs once you install them?” Vriska asks, grinning up at him. “Can you make him dance?” Her grin widens. “Or _kneel_?”

He glowers at her and she suddenly seems to remember that he has control over her robot arm too, because she leans back. He hunches over his work again. You can see one slender silver ankle hanging over the edge of the bench. Five perfectly formed toes jut into the air. Vriska leans over and tickles the bottom of the foot, shooting you a grin.

“Did you hear about Sollux?” she asks you. “Karkat is going to be soooooooo upset.”

“Yeah, um, that reminds me, Equius,” you start.

“I told you to be quiet,” says Equius.

You shut up again.

TC: iT aLl MoThErFuCkIn ChAnGeS sOoN.  
TC: tHiS iS lIkE hAtChInG aLl OvEr AgAiN.  
TC: gOtTa MaKe ThE bEsT oF oUr LaSt DaYs.  
TC: I pLaN tO dO a LiTtLe BaKiNg  
TC: GeT mY cHiLl On  
TC: AnD eNjOy ThE mOtHeRfUcK oUt Of tHiS nEw AdVeNtUrE.   
AT: uMM,  
AT: sORRY,  
AT: vRISKA ARRIVED,  
AT: sO i CAN’T REALLY TALK,  
AT: bUT i’LL BE BACK,  
AT: wHEN IT’S OVER,    
TC: AiGhT mY MaIn MoThErFuCkEr.  
TC: GeT uP oFfA tHeM wHeElS.  
TC: wHeN i SeE yOu AgAiN, wE’rE gOnNa KiCk ShIt Up.  
TC: AnD tHaT  
TC: mY fRiEnD  
TC: iS a MoThErFuCkInG  
TC: sAy It WiTh Me  
TC: mIrAcLe!  
TC: HoNk :o)    
AT: hONK,  
AT: }:o)

\-- adiosToreador [AT] ceased trolling terminallyCapricious [TC] \--

“Uuuugh,” Vriska says, reading over your shoulder. “I don’t know how you can even talk to him.”

“He’s my friend,” you say, and although you can’t see her, you know she rolls her eye at that. She drapes herself over your shoulder, her cheek pressing up against yours and her hair tickling the inside of your ear.

“You won’t be able to keep talking to him once we get to the city,” she says, a little gleefully. She reaches out and taps the side of your screen that shows your Trollian chumproll. “They’re serious about the hemospectrum there. Not like these grublands where half the trolls don’t even know what their blood color _means_.” One of her claws traces a circle around the top few people on your list: Aradia, you, Sollux, and Karkat. “That’ll be your social circle soon. A dead girl, a slave, and a coward who ran off rather than let anyone know how dirty his blood really is. Talk to anyone too much higher than that and you’ll get punished for being uppity.”

“I won’t be able to talk to you anymore?” you say. You’re not sure whether you’re relieved or disappointed, and from Vriska’s huff in your ear, you don’t think she can tell either.

“Not unless I choose to talk to you _first_.” She peels herself off your shoulder and stalks away, back to the workbench. “Aren’t you done yet?” she says to Equius. “I want to cut him in half.”

“Uh,” you say. “I thought Equius—”

She tosses a smug, angry grin over her shoulder. “He said I could do it.”

“I think Tavros should have the chance to decide,” says an empty voice from the doorway. Aradia glides into the room.

You haven’t seen her since—well, since the accident all those sweeps ago. You’ve talked to her, sure, but ever since she died, there wasn’t too much of her around to see, and it’s only been a perigee since Equius built her the soulbot.

Your mouth goes dry and you try not to stare. You shouldn’t be surprised. After seeing Equius’s elegant, perfectly proportioned hive, you really should have known that he has a talent for making beautiful things. But this machine in front of you is a marvel.

Her skin is a slightly more lustrous silver than the gray of a normal troll. Each swell and dip of muscle and sinew has been lovingly captured in wrought metal. Her joints, cunningly crafted, move with an easy grace. Her eyes, wide set and even, are smooth glass lenses set under long blue lashes. Her lips are glossy blue and the sign on her chest has been chased in blue enamel. The sweep and curl of each of her metal horns ends in glittering, sharp tips.

Vriska growls at her, visibly bristling. You drag your attention back to her. This is probably the first time Vriska has seen Aradia too, and she doesn’t seem to like what she sees.

“It’s been a while,” Aradia says coolly to Vriska.

“Wish it were longer,” Vriska replies.

The tension in the room is rising. Vriska looks like she’s ready to lunge at Aradia.

“Uh,” you say. “It’s okay. I don’t mind if Vriska does it.”

Aradia’s eyes shift toward you and although there is no change in her smooth metal face, you think she’s disappointed in you. “Okay,” she says simply, and turns away from both of you, joining Equius at the workbench.

Vriska, if anything, looks even more furious at the casual dismissal. You watch her expression flicker between anger and—curiously—hurt, before she suddenly whirls on you. She gives you a manic grin.

“Let’s cut you in half!”

“You’re not literally, uh, going to cut me in half,” you say. “Just, cut off my legs.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Let me get my fluorite octet. We can roll and see if it comes up with something to get the job done.”

“Aren’t there, um, sixteen million possible outcomes—”

“At least a few of them have to be useful for this!”

“And, the rest—”

“Be right back,” she says, and runs out the doorway again, presumably to return to her own hive.

As soon as she’s gone, Aradia looks back at you. “We can do it before she gets back,” she says.

“Um.” You rub sweating palms over your knees. “I’d like to wait. If that’s okay with you.”

Aradia nods. You see that she’s leaning her weight slightly against Equius’s arm, and that’s kind of new. There is a sheen of sweat on the back of Equius’s neck. You avert your gaze. You always knew that Equius had kind of a thing for Aradia, but this is the first you knew that it was requited.

You are terrified. You don’t even know if this is going to work. You have been living with your paralysis for three sweeps now and you have become used to it. It’s hard to remember life with a working pair of legs. And as much as you’d like to be able to walk again, the idea that someone is going to have to cut your legs off to make that happen is absolutely terrifying. Equius promises that he can connect the nerves again to give you control over your new metal limbs, but what if it doesn’t work? What if you end up as half a troll with nothing to show for the trouble?

To distract yourself from these thoughts, you open Trollian again. You don’t want to bother Gamzee, who’s probably slamming a frosty one and spacing out, but you can see that Karkat is online. What Vriska said about your lowblood social circle comes back to you. You don’t really know why Karkat has decided to run away—rumor has it that his blood might be as low as Aradia’s, but no one knows for sure—and while you and Karkat were never what you would describe as friends, you do think you’ll miss him if he gets eaten by something.

You then proceed to have the conversation which starts with:

AT: uMMM,  
AT: eQUIUS HAS A REALLY BIG HIVE,  
AT: yOU SHOULD VISIT,

and ends with:

AT: bYE,

And by the time you’ve finished that, there are footsteps on the stairs again and it’s time.  


* * *

  
Vriska returns with her fluorite octet, which she makes a big show of pretending to roll, talking about all the horrific demises available within the dice, before she unequips them and equips a chainsaw instead. She doesn’t have sawkind in her strife specibus, so she’s not exactly proficient with it. But it is a chainsaw, and it does get the job done eventually.

And if you never have to go through that again, it’ll be too soon.

The rest is a blur of healing salve and chocolate colored blood and the strange tingling sensation of long dead nerves connecting with their non-organic counterparts and coming back to uncomfortable life. It actually takes a lot less time than you thought it might, and within an hour, Equius and Aradia are helping you sit up, and you can feel the healing salve doing its thing and knitting your flesh back together. You itch like a motherfucker. But that means it’s working.

“You will have some trouble walking at first,” Equius says. “You will avoid stairs for a while until you have better control.”

“Get up!” Vriska says. “Get up! I wanna see you walk!”

You concentrate, frowning. Slowly and with great deliberation, you flex your shiny metal toes, first on your right leg, then your left. The sensation is so thrilling that you grin up at them all and Aradia squeezes your shoulder. Vriska claps her hands.

“Up, up, up,” she says.

You shift all of your weight onto one metal butt cheek, rolling slowly onto the side of your left leg so you can bend both of your legs under yourself. Bracing your hands on the floor, you move your weight forward, going up onto your hands and knees. There is a stretch and tug of half-healed flesh in your gut but you are so ecstatic over this small victory that you don’t even care.

“Careful,” Aradia says, bracing her hand under your elbow. You lean on her as you straighten your torso and then slide one leg out, flattening your right foot onto the floor. All of your weight moves forward onto your foot and you slowly extend your leg, pulling your left foot underneath yourself as you go.

And then you are standing up for the first time in three sweeps. You feel so _tall_. You’re as tall as Vriska, taller than Aradia. Nowhere near as tall as Equius but that’s okay. Tinkerbull flies down from the shelf and sniffs at your legs.

Vriska shrieks with delight and throws her arms around you and you take an unsteady step back. Aradia rests her hand between your shoulder blades, keeping you upright, although Vriska is holding tight enough that you probably can’t fall.

“Come see my hive,” she says into your neck. “It will be so awesome.”

“Um,” you say. “There are kind of a lot of stairs, um, between here and there.”

She grins. “Pupa, you have _three days_ before the imperial drones come and you have to prove that you’re not a useless crippled wiggler. You can’t take your time! You have to get started!”

“He won’t be using the stairs,” Equius says firmly.

“Oh, and you think the imperial drones will be impressed when Tavros has to have someone _carry him_ out to see them?” Vriska spits at him. She turns her attention back to you. “Come oooooooon, Pupa! Let’s goooooooo!”

You shoot Equius an uncomfortable look. “Um,” you said. “Maybe I should practice walking around the room first.”

Vriska sighs and lets go of you. She sweeps an arm out derisively as if presenting you with the rest of the room. “Go on, then,” she says, sounding unimpressed.

You take a tentative step forward. It’s harder than you thought it would be. There are so many things to keep track of when you’re walking. You have to keep your center of balance right over your feet the whole time, and three sweeps of disuse has dulled your muscle memory. But it’s not that bad, and you think… perhaps… it may be possible… that you’re going to get through this without being culled.

You stumble a little over a robotic torso that’s half hidden under a table, but you right yourself without even having to grab onto anything, and that’s the best feeling in the world. Vriska sidles up behind you, dogging your heels.

“Left, right, left, right,” she says. “Get those robolegs moving a little faster.”

She steps on the back of your heel and you stumble again. “Vriska,” you say, “that’s not helping.”

“You don’t need _help_ ,” she says. “You need _challenges_. What’s the good in overcoming something that didn’t take _effort_?”

Sometimes Vriska says things that make you want to grab her and shake her, but you’ve never done that to anyone and you probably never will. You just can’t get _angry_ enough for that. Maybe Vriska’s right and that does make you a failure of a troll. Maybe Karkat’s right and that does mean there’s something broken in your brain. But hate and anger aren’t very _pleasant_ emotions, so why would feeling them be a good thing?

Equius is cleaning up and Aradia is perched on the workbench, swinging her legs and watching him. You pause at the far end of the room and Vriska bumps into you, but you were expecting it so you don’t fall over.

“Ouch,” she says. She steps around you. “Did you forget how to walk again?”

“Sorry,” you say reflexively. “I, um.”

You don’t really know what you’re going to say, but she doesn’t give you a chance to get much further than that. Her foot lashes out and kicks you in the back of the knees, and your legs fold. You drop like a rock. One of your horns clips the edge of a table and the impact snaps up through your head, making your ears ring and your senses spin for a second. When you open your eyes again, you’re lying flat on your back and Vriska is sitting on your chest.

“You’re going to have to prepare for unexpected attacks,” she says, grinning down at you. “The imperial drones are going to test you. They have to make sure you’re worth it.”

“That wasn’t fair,” you say.

“Life’s not fair, Pupa.” Her long black hair swings over your face. She leans forward more so it brushes your nose. “That’s why you have to cheat.”

Her one working eye is fixed on yours, the black pupil a wide, dilated hole in amber sclera. Threads of bright blue, like a corona around the sun, radiate from the pupil. In a few sweeps the blue will take over her eye, in the same way that your own will become brown. You are transfixed, and you don’t know whether she’s manipulating you or not.

Suddenly she’s kissing you, her mouth hungry on yours, her fangs biting your lips. Her tongue traces the tips of your own fangs and you’re just so surprised—and how stupid is it that you’re surprised? Surely you’ve seen this coming? Except you really, really hadn’t—that you don’t know how to respond, and so instead of responding, you just lay there.

After a minute, she sits back, frowning. The curtain of her hair lifts from your face and cool air rushes over your skin.

“That was pathetic, Pupa,” she says.

“Vriska,” you say.

She leans in again and this time the kiss is slightly gentler, as if she’s giving you the option of responding. But you still don’t. And this time when she sits up, her expression is hard.

“Did I accidentally cut off your bulge when I cut off your legs?” Vriska asks, her voice vicious and maybe slightly wounded. “Or have you always been a complete and utter waste of caliginous feelings?”

She shoots to her feet, glaring down at you. “You really are pathetic,” she says. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do to convince the imperial drones to spare you.” She hesitates, trembling on the verge of saying something else. You just lay there and wait, and your lack of response puts her over the edge. “You know what? I’m _glad_ I reported you to the drones for culling.”

There is silence in the room. Whatever conversation Equius and Aradia had been having has stopped. You just stare up at Vriska. Vriska lifts her head, glancing across the room toward Aradia and Equius, although you can’t see them from your position on the floor.

“You _what_?” Aradia says.

“I did,” she says to all of you, her voice triumphant. “I reported you to the imperial drones yesterday. I told them you were a sad, broken cripple and they should cull you. I did it for your own good, Tavros.” She waves her arms. “If they showed up looking for a normal troll and found you with your robot legs, they might not even challenge you. They might have just let you get classified and shipped out. But if they come looking to cull a cripple, you’ll have to _work_ for their respect. Won’t that be better? Won’t that challenge make your journey into adulthood all the more precious?”

It’s really hard to tell whether she believes what she’s saying. “But—” you start to say, and you stumble over your own words. “But you—”

“I did it for you,” she says to you, her mouth in a hard smirk, her one eye bright and glittering. “I did it so you could be a better troll. You should thank me.”

“ _But you cheat_!” you shout. You struggle to sit up. “You cheat at _every game you play_! You take the easy way out in _everything you do!_ ”

There is a flicker of surprise on her face at your vehemence, but not an ounce of shame. “I don’t have anything to prove,” she says. “I already know I’m awesome.”

“You—” You sputter and run out of words to say again. Vriska looks down at you, apparently waiting for you to shout some more. When you finally subside into silence, she shrugs.

“If you make it past the drones, look me up,” she says to you. She steps back and then circles the table, heading for the door.

“Let her go,” Equius says to Aradia’s unseen movement. You laboriously climb to your feet. You see Aradia standing by the door with her fists clenched.

“Why,” Aradia says with cold fury in her voice.

“Because she just did what all of us should have done.” Equius’s eyes shift to you as you stand. “It was her duty as a troll.”

Aradia turns her head slowly to stare at him, and there is such rage in every rigid line of her body that you are surprised she doesn’t hit him. Instead she takes a few steps away from him, approaching you.

“You have two choices,” she says to you. “You can face the imperial drones, or you can run.”

“I can’t face them,” you said. “I’d have to, um, defeat them in combat? I don’t think that, uh, that’s a thing I can do.”

“Then you can go with Karkat and we’ll meet you in the city.”

This really isn’t a choice at all. Karkat’s trip through the grublands is going to take weeks. Weeks on foot, with a pair of legs that you have just had installed. Facing the imperial drones means instant death. Crossing the grublands means long, drawn out death.

But at least you’ll have a chance.

“I’ll run,” you say.

\-- adiosToreador [AT] began trolling terminallyCapricious [TC] \--

AT: aRE YOU THERE,  
AT: vRISKA TURNED ME IN,  
AT: i HAVE TO RUN,  
AT: i WON’T SEE YOU AFTER ALL,   
TC: wHaT?  
TC: wHy DiD tHe SpIdEr SiStEr HaVe To Go AnD dO a ThInG lIkE tHaT?   
AT: iT’S COMPLICATED,  
AT: bUT MOSTLY IT’S JUST THE USUAL vRISKA STUFF,  
AT: i SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED IT,  
AT: bUT, aS USUAL,  
AT: i DIDN’T,   
TC: i’Ll lEt My LiTtLe AnGrY bRoThEr KnOw ThAt YoU’rE cOmInG.  
TC: yOu’lL hAvE tHe MoSt RiGhTeOuS tRaVeLs.  
TC: It WiLl AlL bE fInE.  
TC: YoU’Ll SeE.   
AT: tHANKS,  
AT: i APPRECIATE IT,   
TC: :o)

\-- terminallyCapricious [TC] ceased trolling adiosToreador [AT] \--

Your stomach throbs and ghost pains chase each other up and down your metal legs. You feel nauseous and shaky with pain and the terror that still hasn’t gone away and might not go away for another few weeks now. Tinkerbull comes over and leans against you, nosing the side of your knee. You reach down and rub him behind the ears, then nearly topple over at the unfamiliar shift in your center of gravity.

“I didn’t even really pack,” you say, although you know that you probably didn’t leave anything back in your hive that you can’t live without.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling adiosToreador [AT] \--

CG: WHAT  
CG: THE FUCK  
CG: DID YOU BULGEREEKS DO NOW


	3. Chapter 3

**Karkat**

The thing about Alternia that makes everything so difficult is that the imperial city is really fucking far away. Like, thousands of miles far. Troll adults have no familial instincts when it comes to their young, since they don’t bear or rear the wigglers. They’re a few steps removed from the actual insemination itself. All this means is that when an adult troll sees a wiggler, "aww, how adorable" isn’t what comes to mind. Wigglers, and by extension immature trolls, are seen as weak and useless. Best case scenario, an immature troll running into an adult will be culled. Worst case, eaten.

Luckily for just about everyone involved, most adult trolls get shipped off into space to join the invading fleets and colonize the conquered planets not long after they come of age. The majority of the infrastructure on Alternia is run by the young, for the young, although there are adults here and there to keep the young in check. The center of this immature government is in the Imperial City.

The Imperial City has been on the northeastern coast for as long as there has been recorded history. It’s far enough removed from the grublands and the Mother Grub that the propagation of the species is secure, and travel from the grublands to the Imperial City is difficult. In between point A and point B is a metric fuckton of danger.

Your hive is— _was_ , you guess—in the suburbs a few dozen miles away from the hive towers where Sollux lives. This, in turn, is a couple hundred miles from the southern coast, where Tavros and Gamzee live, and another few hundred miles from the southeastern midlands where Equius and Vriska have their hives. Not that you’ve ever actually visited them in person, except Sollux. But as the train rattles east, you lay the map over your knees and trace the route with one finger. You plan to ride the train as far as you can in the next two days before the imperial drones arrive and close down all forms of transportation during the processing period. This is the time of the sweep when all trolls know to stay indoors and lay low. You don’t have that luxury anymore.

Your palmhusk vibrates in your pocket.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

TA: here2 the new chat cliient.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] has transferred the file trolliianexiile.exe --

CG: SO WHEN YOU SAY TROLLIIANEXIILE.EXE  
CG: DO YOU MEAN TROLLIANEXILE.EXE?  
TA: no dumba22.  
TA: ii meant what ii 2aiid.  
CG: JUST CHECKING.  
TA: iit wiill keep u2 from beiing overheard when we chat.  
CG: I'M NOT AN IMPERIAL SPY.  
CG: I DON'T THINK WE HAVE A LOT TO WORRY ABOUT.  
TA: youd be 2urprii2ed.  
TA: the empiire i2nt 2tupid.  
TA: and there are iimperiial 2piie2 out there.  
TA: you know blueblood2  
TA: wiith all theiir 2chemiing.  
TA: the empiire wiill be lookiing for people haviing onliine conver2atiions out iin the miiddle of nowhere.

You install it. TrolliianExiile looks a lot like Trollian, except for its eye-searingly ugly color scheme of red and blue. It automatically imports your chumproll from Trollian. A new window pops up: Sollux again.

\-- twiinArmageddon2 [TA] began trolliing carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

TA: good.  
TA: iit work2.  
CG: I SHOULD HOPE SO.  
TA: iit2 2tiill iin beta.  
TA: 2o there may be 2ome bug2.  
CG: WELL FUCK AM I GLAD TO HEAR THAT.  
CG: IF THE EMPIRE IS OUT LOOKING FOR SPIES IN THE GRUBLANDS, I REALLY WANT TO BE FORCED TO RELY ON A SHITTY NEW CHAT CLIENT THAT'S STILL IN BETA.  
TA: fuck you.  
TA: iim good at what ii do.  
TA: and you know iit.

You do know it, but fuck if you’re going to say that.

CG: YOU’RE REALLY DOING THIS, AREN'T YOU?  
CG: A SLAVE? REALLY?  
TA: ugh kk ii already told you.  
TA: iit2 the be2t optiion.  
CG: OKAY EVEN IF THAT WERE TRUE  
CG: WHICH IT ISN'T  
CG: I JUST CAN'T IMAGINE YOU DOING THAT.  
CG: WHAT IS SHE GOING TO HAVE YOU DO? WASH HER FLOORS?  
TA: ii dont know yet.  
TA: but ii tru2t her not two be obnoxiiou2.  
CG: WHY WOULD YOU TRUST HER?  
CG: SHE'S A SEA DWELLER.  
CG: THEY GET MORE SHITHIVE MAGGOTS THE FARTHER UP THE HEMOSPECTRUM YOU GO, AND SHE'S AT THE FUCKING TOP RUNG.  
TA: but you know ff.  
TA: you know how 2he i2.  
CG: I'VE NEVER MET HER IN PERSON.  
CG: AND WE DON'T TALK A LOT.  
TA: you talk two ed.  
TA: kiind of a lot actually.  
TA: liike you probably talk two hiim more than you talk two me.  
CG: YEAH EXACTLY.  
CG: WOULD I WANT TO BE ERIDAN'S SLAVE? NO FUCKING WAY.  
TA: ok look my poiint ii2 that 2he2 nothiing liike mo2t 2eadweller2.  
TA: and ii thiink 2he2 goiing two be a great empre22.  
CG: SHE  
CG: WAIT.  
CG: OH GOD.  
CG: YOU'RE FLUSHED FOR HER, AREN'T YOU?  
CG: FUCK, I SHOULD HAVE SEEN THAT COMING.  
TA: well we talked about iit  
TA: and ii thiink beiing mate2priit2 can only help my 2iituatiion.  
CG: DON'T EVEN PRETEND THAT YOU'RE DOING THIS BECAUSE IT'S THE "BEST OPTION."  
CG: THE "MOST LOGICAL CHOICE."  
CG: YOU DITCHED ME BECAUSE YOU WANT TO PLAY MASTER AND SLAVE WITH YOUR MATESPRIT.  
TA: are you jealou2?  
CG: WHAT NO.  
CG: I DON'T FEEL ANYTHING FOR YOU IN ANY QUADRANT.  
CG: BUT NOW I HAVE TO TRAVEL ACROSS THE GRUBLANDS WITH TAVROS.  
CG: TAVROS, SOLLUX.  
TA: ii know.  
TA: at least you'll outrun hiim iif you get cha2ed by 2piiderbea2t2.  
CG: NOT IF.  
CG: WHEN.

\-- carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] cea2ed trolliing twiinArmageddon2 [TA] \--  


* * *

  
The train rocks back and forth gently as it rolls down the tracks. Out the window, the landscape has turned from suburban to exurban, and then slowly more suburban again. The stretches of fields full of rustling grasses and grazing ungulates are becoming a thing of the past, and you can see more hives here—big hives. Expensive hives. The lime green moon hangs in the sky over the horizon, on its way to setting. The train should arrive at the station where Tavros is waiting around noon, which is when the sun should be briefly grazing the horizon for an hour. The trains have tinted windows to allow for daylight travel, although sleeping in the cramped seats is going to be a drag.

\-- carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG]  began trolliing adiio2Toreador [AT]  \--

CG: ARE YOU AT THE STATION?   
TA: yEAH,  
TA: i HAVE MY TICKET,  
CG: I'M IN THE SEVENTH CAR.  
TA: oKAY,  
TA: wHAT DO YOU LOOK LIKE,  
CG: I'M THE HANDSOMEST MOTHERFUCKER IN HERE.  
TA: uHH,  
TA: oKAY,

\-- carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] cea2ed trolliing adiio2Toreador [AT] \--

The train slows and you brace your foot against the seat ahead of you to keep from shifting forward. There are a few trolls waiting on the platform when the train comes to a stop, and you already recognize Tavros from those fucking massive horns.

He climbs the stairs into the train very slowly and laboriously, and has to turn his head sideways to make it through the doorway. His eyes scan the seats and then zero in on you and he comes down the aisle.

“I looked for the troll with, um, the nubbiest horns,” he says.

“Is that how you make friends, asshole? Insulting the horns? What if I was a complete fucking stranger?”

He grins at that. “Yup, it’s you,” he says. He lowers himself gingerly into the seat next to you, nearly clipping you with a horn.

“Are those the new legs?” you ask. He’s wearing baggy black pants over them but his feet are bare, gleaming metal.

“Yeah,” he says proudly, rubbing one hand over his knee. “They work, um, really well, so far.”

“How fast can you run?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he says cautiously. “Why?”

“No reason.” You look out the window again. The train lurches as it pulls away from the station, and something in the pit of your stomach tightens. This is it. You’re on your way.

Tavros is silent too, and when you glance back at him you can see his own expression is sober. He makes a recognizable gesture, the universal sign of someone taking something from their sylladex, and suddenly a white lusus is sitting on his lap.

“You brought your lusus?” you say with a mixture of shock and jealousy.

Tavros wraps his arms around the lusus. It has long, coltish legs and a ring in its snout, and translucent fairy wings are folded neatly against the smooth hair of its back. “I couldn’t leave Tinkerbull,” he says defensively. The lusus noses at his arm contentedly.

“What the fuck are you going to do with a lusus in the city?” you say.

“Some trolls keep their lusi,” he says.

“If anyone sees that, they’ll swat it like a fly,” you say. “You can’t let people see it.”

“ _I couldn’t leave him behind_ ,” Tavros repeats firmly. And fuck, that feels like a slap. You turn your face away angrily.

“Sorry,” Tavros mutters, though the fact that he probably doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for really pisses you off. You look back at him.

“I don’t have a problem leaving things behind,” you say to him hotly, with a deliberate look at his legs. He doesn’t answer, and you look away again.  


* * *

  
\-- gallow2Caliibrator [GC] began trolliing carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

GC: LOOKS L1K3 YOUR3 US1NG TTRROOLL1144NN33XX11LL33!  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT WORD VOMIT.  
GC: H3H3H3  
GC: >:]  
GC: HOWS TH3 TR1P?  
GC: 4R3 YOU 4ND 4T S1NG1NG SONGS 4ND RO4ST1NG M4RSHM4LLOWS?  
CG: THIS IS THE LONGEST TRAIN RIDE OF MY LIFE.  
CG: EIGHT HOURS SO FAR.  
CG: NO FUCKING SOPOR SLIME TO SLEEP IN, OBVIOUSLY.  
CG: AND THE SEATS ARE SO UNCOMFORTABLE.  
GC: YOU WONT H4V3 SOPOR SLIM3 FOR W33KS AND W3333KS  
GC: SW33T DR34MS!  
GC: TH1S 1S PROB4BLY TH3 B3ST P4RT OF YOUR TR1P.  
CG: I KNOW.  
GC: 4ND YOUR3 4LR34DY COMPL41N1NG!  
GC: NOT TH4T 1'M SURPR1S3D  
GC: <3

You chew on your lower lip, staring at that heart. Fuck, she confuses you so much. You like her a lot, and your feelings for her are… probably flushed? Maybe? This is just so fucking hard. You thought that growing up would make these feelings easier, but so far, no dice.

CG: DID YOU KNOW THAT SOLLUX AND FEFERI ARE MATESPRITS NOW?  
GC: M4T3SPR1TS?  
GC: 1 WOND3R WH4T M4D3 YOU TH1NK OF TH4T CH4NG3 1N SUBJ3CT  
GC: >:]  
GC: > :]  
GC: >:]  
CG: FUCK YOU.  
CG: IT'S ON MY MIND BECAUSE IT'S THE REASON I'M TRAVELING WITH THIS CULLBAIT INSTEAD.  
GC: 4R3NT YOU CULLB41T TOO?  
CG: OKAY SO FUCK YOU AGAIN.  
CG: I'M TRYING TO MAKE CONVERSATION HERE.  
GC: 1 D1DNT KNOW 4BOUT TH3M BUT 1M NOT SURPR1S3D.  
GC: TH3Y T4LK 4444444LL TH3 T1M3.  
GC: 1 TH1NK TH3Y„´‰ˇÓı◊ Ç◊ıÔ∏Ø Ò ˝˜ÂÒ ÔÒ∏Ø∏ Ø∏∏˜ı◊ Ç˛ÅÍ ÎÏ‰´„Œ ‹›ﬁ  
ŒÇ: Ïˇ ÁÔÓı ◊ÇÎÏ ˝ÓÔÔ Ó˝ÏÎÍ ´‰ˇÁ ¨Áˇ‰´ „ÍÇ◊ıÔ ¨ÁˇÎ Ï˝ Óı◊ÇÏ ˝Ï˝Ï ˝ÓÔ¨ ÔÓ  ÏÓ˝ÎÁ ˇÏ¨Ô ÁÏ˝ Ó˝Ô Ó˝ÔÓ ÏÔÓ˝Ç Ô˝ÏÔÓ ÏÔ ÓÏÔ Óı◊˜◊˝ ÓÏÔÓ˝

You try to type in "WHAT THE FUCK" but it comes out as "„ÓÅˇ ˇÓ´ Ï¨ÇÒ" so you give up. Looks like Sollux’s genius TrolliianExiile beta is performing fucking admirably. Your chumproll, which had looked like this:

apocalyp2eArii2en  
adiio2Toreador  
twiinArmageddon2  
carciinoGenetiicii2t  
ar2eniicCatniip  
griimAuxiiliiatriix  
gallow2Caliibrator  
arachniid2Griip  
centaur2Te2tiicle  
termiinallyCapriiciiou2  
caliigula2Aquariium  
cuttlefii2hCuller

Now looks like this:

˝ÓØÍˇÁˇ‰ˆˆÇ˚€ˇ´‰  
ˇ´˜ˇÅÇÒ´ˇÓ´‰Å∏ˆÍˇ  
ˇ¨‰˜ˇ´ÇÓ˝ØÎÓ´ÅÎ  
˝Å‰Î´˜˝˜ØÍˇˆˆÇ  
Å∏ØÇÅÒÁ∏€´Å‰ˆˆÍ´˜  
ˇ„ˆˆ˜Å‰ÂÅ˝´ÎÎØ˜€  
ÅÎˆˆØÍˇØ‰´ÅÎØ‰  
ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆ€ˇ  
˝‰ˆˆÂÅ¨˛ˆˆÒˆˆÅˇ‰ˆˆ˛  
˝ÅÒÒØ„€ÇÅÒˆˆı‰ÅˇØ‰  
Å‰€´˜ˆˆÇÇÅˇ˜ˆˆ∏  
Å‰ÅÇÓ˜ˆˆÎ€˝‰ˆˆ∏  
Ç´˜ˇÅ¨‰€ˇ´€ˇˆˆÇÒ´  
ˇ´‰Âˆˆ˜ÅÒÒÁÇÅ∏‰ˆˆÇˆØ¨€  
ÇÅÒˆˆ˝¨ÒÅ€ÅŒ¨Å‰ˆˆ¨Â  
Ç¨ˇˇÒ´ÏˆˆÍÓÇ¨ÒÒ´‰

It’s completely fucking unusable.

“Give me your husktop,” you say to Tavros. It’s the first thing you’ve said to him in about five hours. He’s spent most of that time with a book resting on Tinkerbull’s flank, reading silently. Well fuck him for packing a book on your flight from danger.

“Uh, okay,” he says. He takes it from his sylladex and hands it to you. He, too, has installed TrolliianExiile (which, you've noticed, overwrites Trollian so you can't go back to that anymore. Fucking awesome). It has the same problem as yours does.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning over. His horn grazes your head. You duck away and jab a claw at the screen.

“Sollux is what’s wrong,” you say.

“Oh.” He shrugs. “He’ll fix it.”

“He’d fucking better.”

You hand him back his husktop (and fuck him for bringing it! Seriously, he expects to carry that across the country? Hard to be unobtrusive when you're whipping out a husktop all the time to talk to people).

“What else did you pack?” you ask him.

“What?” He frowns at you.

“For our fucking trip through—” You abruptly lower your voice. “You know.”

“Um.” He thinks. “Clothes, a few books, my husktop, food for Tinkerbull, some snacks…”

“Wow. Fucking natural-hatched survivalist right there,” you say.

“I didn’t, um, expect to be leaving from Equius’s hive,” he says. “I didn’t really pack.”

“So I have to provide for both of us,” you say.

“Um, sorry,” he says.

You slouch in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Great,” you grumble to yourself. There’s a pause in the conversation. Tavros strokes Tinkerbull’s head. Tinkerbull lets out a huff of air through his nostrils and stretches in Tavros’s lap, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

“What books did you bring?” you mutter.

“Um.” He looks at you. “I kind of like fantasy novels? Um, like Pupa Pan. Stuff with fairies and magic…”

“Uuuugh, magic” you groan, sinking lower in the seat. “You sound like Eridan.”

“I hope not,” he says.

You snort. “Give me one.”

“Give you one what?”

You roll your eyes. “A book, dumbass!”

“Which one?”

“I don’t fucking care. Whichever one is the least terrible.”

He hesitates, then takes one out of his sylladex and hands it to you. Pupa Pan. You probably could have guessed.

“Give me a different one,” you say immediately.

“You asked for the best.”

“No, I asked for the _least terrible._ ”

He stares at you mutely. You roll your eyes.

“Fine,” you say.  


* * *

  
You’re still reading when the train pulls into the next station, and the station after that, and when you finish reading, you take Tavros’s next book and read, bleary-eyed, as the moons rise.

The next station is your destination. There isn’t one train that runs across the country, so you have to switch trains here. The next train will be your last one, because by the time you arrive at the end of the line, the stations will be shutting down until the imperial drones pass through. Then you’ll be moving on foot for some time, until you can get to the other side of the grublands. Once you pass into the more adult parts of the continent, the public transportation might be working again.

The problem is that the imperial drones start from the west, all the way on the southwest coast where the Mother Grub lays her eggs. They spread out from there, moving north and east in a fan until they finish with all of the grublands. If they were moving from northeast to southwest, then you would just have to hunker down somewhere and wait for them to pass. But since both you and the drones are heading the same direction, you'll be keeping pace with each other for more or less the entire time.

The train starts to slow. You shake Tavros awake from where he has been nodding off, chin to his chest. He jerks awake and nearly gores you with his horn.

“Sorry,” he says, wincing as you slap his horn away from your face and glare.

“We’re arriving,” you say.

“Can we get some sleep?” he says hopefully.

“We only have six hours before the next train.”

“Maybe just a nap,” he says doubtfully.

“How much money do you have?”

“Uhh. Not a lot.”

“Me neither. We should save it for when we get out of the grublands,” you say.

“Yeah.” He looks disappointed. You want to laugh at him for being so pathetic but you really, really wish you had some sopor slime right about now.

The train stops and you both rise stiffly. Tavros winces slightly as he stands, rubbing at his hip where, presumably, his robot legs meet his torso.

“I have healing salve too,” he says. “I forgot to say that before.”

“Good,” you mutter. “We’ll probably need it.”

As you get off the train, Tavros behind you, your palmhusk vibrates. You take it out.

\-- ˇ„ˆˆ˜Å‰ÂÅ˝´ÎÎØ˜€ ”†Å’ ı´˝Å˜ ˇ‰ØÒÒˆˆ˜˝ ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆ€ˇ ”ÇΩ’ \--

†Å: iim workiing on the problem  
†Å: but iit may take 2ome tiime two fiix iit completely.  
ÇΩ: HOW DO I KNOW WHO THE FUCK I’M TALKING TO?  
ÇΩ: I MEAN OBVIOUSLY THIS IS YOU.  
ÇΩ: BUT MY CHUMPROLL IS A FUCKING MESS.  
†Å: calm down.  
†Å: iim kiind of bu2y.  
†Å: youre not the only one wiith ii22ue2 riight now.  
ÇΩ: IF YOU DON’T FIX IT SOON, YOU WON’T GET A CHANCE.  
†Å: ii know.

\-- ˇ„ˆˆ˜Å‰ÂÅ˝´ÎÎØ˜€ ”†Å’ Ç´Å€´Î ˇ‰ØÒÒˆˆ˜˝ ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆ€ˇ ”ÇΩ’ \--

You heave a sigh and put away your palmhusk. You’re on the train platform under the station. The station is a hub of tracks. Cold wind whips through the area. There are stairs leading up to the interior of the station itself. The few passenger who disembarked here are all hurrying up. Tavros looks up at them uneasily.

“Equius told me not to climb stairs,” he says.

“See you in six hours.” You start to climb.

After a pause, you hear him grip the railing and slowly start to climb, his metal feet searching for purchase on each step before he trusts his weight to them. You stop halfway up to watch him. He is concentrating hard on moving his feet one after the other.

“It’s walking,” you say. “How hard can it be?”

He doesn’t reply, gritting his teeth. You start up the stairs again and reach the top and step through into the hot, dry warmth of the station.

There are a handful of early evening travelers here, some arriving, some leaving. There is a line at the ticket window. Most of the room is full of long wooden benches.

You sit, and after a minute, Tavros pushes the door open and steps into the room as well, holding Tinkerbull. A cold wind swirls in with him.

“I didn’t fall,” he says, making his slow way to you. “I know you were expecting me to fall.”

“If I was expecting you to fall,” you say, “I would have kept watching.”

He sits down next to you, slumping onto the smooth wood, polished by thousands of troll asses over the sweeps. Tinkerbull takes flight with a whir of wings and hovers for a second, then heads across the room to investigate the station. He’s not the only lusus in the room so at least he doesn’t stand out.

“What do we do when we can’t take the train anymore?” he asks.

“We walk,” you say. You watch him slouch a little lower in the seat.

“For how long?”

“Basically the rest of our lives.” You take out the map and show it to him. “We’ll probably get about here when the trains stop running. We’ll have to go up this way.” Your finger slides north.

“But there aren’t any, uh, roads that go that way.”

“We can’t travel on the roads. That’s not very stealthy, is it?”

He rubs his eyes tiredly. “I guess not.”

\-- Ç´˜ˇÅ¨‰€ˇ´€ˇˆˆÇÒ´ ”Ç†’ ı´˝Å˜ ˇ‰ØÒÒˆˆ˜˝ ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆ€ˇ ”ÇΩ’ \--

Ç†: D --> You will come upstairs at once  
Ç†: D --> I command it  
ÇΩ: UH  
ÇΩ: WHAT  
ÇΩ: UPSTAIRS WHERE?  
ÇΩ: AND ALSO WHY THE FUCK WOULD I DO WHAT YOU SAY?   
Ç†: D --> You are not Aradia   
ÇΩ: I SHOULD FUCKING HOPE NOT. 

\-- Ç´˜ˇÅ¨‰€ˇ´€ˇˆˆÇÒ´ ”Ç†’ Ç´Å€´Î ˇ‰ØÒÒˆˆ˜˝ ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆ€ˇ ”ÇΩ’  \--

Your stomach rumbles. You look around until you spot a small newspaper vendor tucked in a corner of the station. There are snacks on display. You have some rations in your sylladex but you want to put off eating those for as long as possible.

“I’ll be back,” you say, standing.

“I’m going to sit here, for a while,” Tavros says.

You cross the room. The room is still mostly empty, since it’s pretty early evening, although there are a couple of people in the shop. The newspaper headlines are boring and mostly are just warning about the drones coming, as if anyone has forgotten what time of the sweep it is.

\-- ÇÅÒˆˆ˝¨ÒÅ€ÅŒ¨Å‰ˆˆ¨Â ”ÇÅ’ ı´˝Å˜ ˇ‰ØÒÒˆˆ˜˝ ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆ€ˇ ”ÇΩ’  \--

ÇÅ: fef wwe need to talk  
ÇÅ: wwere not glubbin wwigglers  
ÇÅ: you dont understand wwhat youre doin  
ÇΩ: THIS IS ABOUT SOLLUX, ISN'T IT.  
ÇÅ: wwait  
ÇÅ: i think i opened the wwrong wwindoww   
ÇΩ: OBVIOUSLY.  
ÇÅ: i dont see howw she thinks this is okay  
ÇÅ: i mean wwhat does she think  
ÇÅ: people wwant their empress to havve a pissblood matesprit?   
ÇΩ: THAT'S PROBABLY NOT THE APPROACH YOU WANT TO TAKE WHEN YOU TALK TO HER.  
ÇÅ: yeah but its true  
ÇÅ: wwhy does she think this is going to be easy  
ÇÅ: nofins easy   
ÇΩ: I KNOW.

\-- ÇÅÒˆˆ˝¨ÒÅ€ÅŒ¨Å‰ˆˆ¨Â ”ÇÅ’ Ç´Å€´Î ˇ‰ØÒÒˆˆ˜˝ ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆ€ˇ ”ÇΩ’  \--

You buy two packets of the cheapest cookies there, and then instead of returning to Tavros, you walk around the room. It’s nice to stretch your legs anyway. There’s a nervous, excited sort of energy to the travelers in this room. Everyone is trying to get back to their hives before the drones come. You can remember this sort of excitement. Back when it didn't have any direct impact on your life, this was kind of a fun season. Terrifying, yes, but also fun. Twelfth perigee’s eve is coming up, and the holiday was always sort of a nice time of the sweep.

\-- Ç¨ˇˇÒ´ÏˆˆÍÓÇ¨ÒÒ´‰ ”ÇÇ’ ı´˝Å˜ ˇ‰ØÒÒˆˆ˜˝ ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆ€ˇ ”ÇΩ’  \--

ÇÇ: TWO DAYS!!  
ÇÇ: 38D  
ÇÇ: glub glub!  
ÇÇ: I'm so -------EXCIT-ED!   
ÇΩ: THAT'S GREAT BUT:  
ÇΩ: 1) I AM NOT SOLLUX.  
ÇΩ: 2) I DON'T CARE.  
ÇÇ: )(i Krabcakes!!   
ÇΩ: ERIDAN WAS LOOKING FOR YOU.  
ÇÇ: I t)(ink )(e's not )(appy wit)( me 38(  
ÇÇ: but I don’t understand w)(y!  
ÇÇ: T)(is is t)(e best way  
ÇÇ: for ----EV-ERYON-E!   
ÇΩ: OKAY SO I THINK YOU SHOULD TALK TO HIM BECAUSE:  
ÇΩ: 1) I AM NOT ERIDAN.  
ÇΩ: 2) I DON'T CARE.   
ÇÇ: FIN-E  
ÇÇ: 38/

\-- Ç¨ˇˇÒ´ÏˆˆÍÓÇ¨ÒÒ´‰ ”ÇÇ’ Ç´Å€´Î ˇ‰ØÒÒˆˆ˜˝ ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆ€ˇ ” ÇΩ’  \--

Wow, this is really starting to get annoying. You reach the benches again and sit down, ripping open your first package of cookies.

“I keep getting messages in TrolliianExiile,” Tavros greets you. “That are not meant for me.”

“Same here,” you say. You shove three cookies in your mouth and take out your palmhusk again.

\-- ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆ€ˇ ”ÇΩ’ ı´˝Å˜ ˇ‰ØÒÒˆˆ˜˝ ÅÎˆˆØÍˇØ‰´ÅÎØ‰ ”Å†’  \--

ÇΩ: SOLLUX, FIX THE FUCKING MESS YOU MADE OUT OF THIS CHAT CLIENT.  
ÇΩ: AND IF THIS IS NOT SOLLUX, TELL HIM TO FIX THE FUCKING MESS HE MADE OUT OF THIS CHAT CLIENT.

\-- ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆ€ˇ ”ÇΩ’ Ç´Å€´Î ˇ‰ØÒÒˆˆ˜˝ ÅÎˆˆØÍˇØ‰´ÅÎØ‰ ”Å†’ \--

Tavros’s husktop chimes. You both look at it.

“Okay, ignore that,” you say around a mouthful of cookie.

\-- ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆ€ˇ ”ÇΩ’ ı´˝Å˜ ˇ‰ØÒÒˆˆ˜˝ ˇ„ˆˆ˜Å‰ÂÅ˝´ÎÎØ˜€ ”†Å’ \--

ÇΩ: DON'T TELL SOLLUX BUT I THINK HE'S A NOOKSNIFFING GRUBFONDLER WITH SOPOR SLIME WHERE HIS BRAIN SHOULD BE.  
†Å: youre 2uch an a22hole.  
ÇΩ: OH GOOD.  
ÇΩ: I WAS RELYING ON COSMIC IRONY TO SEND THAT MESSAGE STRAIGHT TO YOU.  
ÇΩ: SO FIX THIS MESS ALREADY.  
†Å: iim tryiing.  
†Å: ii dont know why iit2 not workiing.  
†Å: there2 2ome 2ort of iinterference or 2omethiing  
†Å: ii dont thiink the problem ii2 on my end.  
ÇΩ: BOO FUCKING HOO.  
ÇΩ: FIX IT.

\-- ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆ€ˇ ”ÇΩ’ Ç´Å€´Î ˇ‰ØÒÒˆˆ˜˝ ˇ„ˆˆ˜Å‰ÂÅ˝´ÎÎØ˜€ ”†Å’ \--

The announcement board on the wall clatters as it updates itself with train arrival and departure times. Your next train is on the bottom of the list, and is on time so far. There is a television on the wall playing the imperial news. It’s a station out of the Imperial City, so the news anchors are adults.

Watching it, you realize that when you are in the Imperial City, you are going to see adult trolls for the first time in your life. Sure, you’ve seen the movies and the television shows, which are all filmed with exclusively adult actors. But that’s not the same as seeing them in person. You are going to be living with adults when (if) you make it to the city.

Tavros suddenly straightens on the bench as if he’s been electrified. “Karkat,” he hisses.

You turn to see him staring across the room with a look of horror.

The doors to the stairwell have have been letting in a more passengers from other trains in a steady trickle, and you had stopped paying attention to it except for the annoying cold breeze that kept sweeping in around your ankles. But now you can see that both doors have opened wide, and something is stepping through—

The imperial drone is at least nine feet tall. It’s covered in a segmented, chitinous exoskeleton a lot like your lusus, except black as charred wood, with an ashen luster underneath. It ducks its head as it steps through the doorway. Six proud horns lance up from its head, three to a side in a magnificent crown.

It’s hard to imagine that you’re the same species. Or that all drones are _female._

All conversation in the room has stopped. The drone steps through the doorway, its footsteps heavy on the floor. Behind it, another drone emerges from the stairwell.

“Two days,” Tavros is muttering. “You said we had two days.”

“We do,” you whisper back, although your mouth is so dry that you can barely speak.

There are three drones in total, and they move slowly and heavily across the floor. You’re on the bench closest to the door. All of them have to walk right past you, and you’ve never been so still in your entire life. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You have an urge to equip your sickle, except that thought is so laughably pathetic that you would cringe if you could get your muscles to start working again.

One of them turns its head to look at you as it passes, and you keep your head down, your eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Something in your brain is screaming RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN and you are desperately fighting the urge to obey.

They move past. You hear them cross the room. The doors open and they head through, and when they disappear from sight, the tension goes out of the room in an audible sigh.

Tavros is shaking. You are too, you notice distantly.

“But what were they doing here?” he asks you.

“They’re getting into place to catch runners, I think,” you say. “They, uh. They’ll be shutting down the train lines at dawn, and watching the roads.”

“They look a lot bigger in real life,” Tavros whispers. No fucking kidding.

You take out your palmhusk again. Your fingers are trembling.

\-- ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆÍˇ ”ÇΩ’ ı´˝Å˜ ˇ‰ØÒÒˆˆ˜˝ ˝ÓØÍˇÁˇ‰ˆˆÇ˚€ˇ´‰ ”Ω†’ \--

ÇΩ: FUCK, SOLLUX, I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN DO THIS.  
ÇΩ: REMEMBER THAT TIME THAT I VISITED AND WE WATCHED THE MOVIE WITH THE ROGUE IMPERIAL DRONES AND WE COULDN'T SLEEP ALL DAY, EVEN THOUGH THE DRONES WERE OBVIOUSLY SHITTY SPECIAL EFFECTS?  
ÇΩ: I JUST SAW A DRONE.  
ÇΩ: AND I THINK IF IT ASKS, I’M JUST GOING TO LET IT CULL ME.  
ÇΩ: JUST LAY DOWN AND WAIT FOR THE CULLING FORK.  
ÇΩ: IT WAS NICE KNOWING YOU.  
Ω†: haha um  
Ω†: what's a culling fork?  
Ω†: and do i know you?


	4. Chapter 4

**John**

It’s April 11th and your eighteenth birthday is in two days, and you’re probably having the best week ever. All in all? Life is not bad.

Your name is John Egbert and you’ve been planning this for a while. Your best friend, Dave Strider, flew in last night from Texas, and your other best friend Rose Lalonde is arriving today from New York. It’s April vacation, so you have almost a whole week to spend together before they have to head home. Best birthday week ever!

Your third best friend, Jade Harley, is probably getting here at some point, but you don’t know when, and she said not to worry about picking her up at the airport, since she doesn't fly commercial airlines. Which, okay, weird, but whatever. You’ve learned to expect that from Jade in the years that you’ve known her.

“If it's too dark out to read that, maybe you should take off the sunglasses,” you say to Dave as you bring the car to a stop at the gate and grab a ticket from the machine. The gate rises, letting you into the SeaTac parking garage.

Dave, who had pushed his sunglasses up with one finger to glance down at his phone, drops them back down onto his nose. “Why would I do a thing like that.”

He’s bundled in a bright red Ohio State Buckeyes sweatshirt, which he pretty much hasn’t taken off since he got here. First of all, it’s not really that cold out, although Washington in April is probably colder than Texas in January so you’ll give him that. Second, you can’t think of anyone he knows who’s gone to OSU so you have no idea where he might have gotten it.

The sky is overcast. It’s been raining all day, and the gloom in the parking garage is only partly moderated by the yellow lights overhead. You find a spot to park and shut off the car.

“Rose says they’ve landed,” Dave says, his thumbs moving over the screen of his iPhone.  “She hasn’t gotten off the plane yet, though.”

“Tell her we’ll meet her in baggage claim,” you say cheerfully. “Oh, man, I can’t wait to see her. I haven’t seen any of you before and now I get to meet all of you in the same week!”

You make your way into the airport. There are swarms of people descending on the luggage carousel. You park yourself right by the doors and watch for her.

“You’re like a puppy waiting for its master to come home,” says Dave, standing next to you. “Slobbering all over the window, pissing the rug. You were like this when you were waiting for me last night, weren’t you?”

He’s a bit shorter than you, which you found kind of hilarious when you met him at the airport last night. He just has such a cool, laid back personality that the idea that you can rest your nose on the top of his head is the funniest thing ever.

“No, just Rose,” you say, and when he elbows you in the ribs, you laugh.

Rose comes through the doorway on the tail end of a surge of passengers. You bound over to her before she even has a chance to look around.

“Rose!” you say, throwing your arms around her. She hugs you back, startled but smiling. She looks a lot like she did three years ago except taller and somehow even more self-possessed, if that’s even possible.

“Hi, John,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess from flying all day.”

Dave strolls up. “Hey,” he says with a nod.

“Hey,” she says back, just as coolly, and then she pulls him into a hug that makes him laugh.

“How was your flight?” you ask. “Besides long.”

“I had a connection in Denver,” Rose says, stepping back from Dave. “God. If you ever wanted to know what the end of the world looks like, look no further than Denver, Colorado. It’s so flat there it’s almost non-Euclidean.”

You spend the next few minutes catching up as you wait for her bags to show up. When she gets them, you head back to the car and argue over where you’re all going to grab lunch.

These people have been your friends since you were pre-teens. You can’t even remember how you all started talking to each other. It feels like it’s been forever, and you’re better friends with them than anyone you’ve ever met in person. You know you’re grinning stupidly but you just can’t help it. They make you happy.  


* * *

  
You let Rose meet your dad and have some time to freshen up after her flight. Your house smells like cake and pipe smoke and your dad is in the middle of making frosting when you get there. You try not to groan when you see the cake. Dad and Rose make small talk about Rose’s college plans; she’s going to attend Cornell University in the fall and is already planning on double majoring in psychology and creative writing. You manage to drag her away from your dad before too long. You have lots of plans for this vacation and you’re not going to let anyone waste time.

The three of you go out for lunch and then you argue over whether to see a movie, and which movie you want to watch. They finally let you decide because it’s your birthday week after all, so you go to see something with a nice balance between personal drama and spectacular explosions. You all end up sitting in the back of the theater and talking through the entire thing anyway. What with Dave's wisecracks and Rose’s commentary on the heteronormativity inherent in the script, you don’t actually pay much attention to the movie at all.

“Tell me the plans for this Egbert extravaganza,” says Dave when the movie’s over and you’re throwing popcorn at each other while the credits roll. You always stay until the end of the credits, even if the movie was terrible.

“Do you know if Jade is coming?” Rose asks.

“I dunno,” you say. “She said not to worry, she’d show up on time, but I don’t know what time she actually means.”

“Harley time,” says Dave. “She doesn’t even live on this planet anyway.”

“Dave, that’s not nice,” you protest. He shrugs.

“She can be a little… odd,” Rose says.

“Remember when she told me her dream about accidentally mowing me down with a machine gun?” Dave says, tossing popcorn into his mouth.

“Everyone has weird dreams,” you say.

“Are you admitting to murderdreams too, Egbert?” He crunches the popcorn. “Thanks for not telling me about yours.”

“She’s just lonely,” Rose says. “I don’t think she interacts with many people other than her grandfather. She doesn’t understand social cues as well as everyone else.”

“She told Egbert how sorry she was that his dad was murdered,” Dave says.

“She was just confused,” you say defensively. “Dave, I know you like her. You talk to her a lot!”

“I’m not saying the girl isn’t fun to talk to,” Dave says. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s hilarious. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think she’s batshit.”

“So she has weird dreams. Who cares! I had a weird dream about her last night,” you say.

“Really,” Rose drawls.

“No, not like a sex dream,” you add hastily. “It was just odd!”

“Don’t talk about dreams in front of Lalonde,” Dave says. “Just don’t even start.”

Rose raises an eyebrow at you. You flush.

“She was my sister in the dream,” you say quickly. “I woke up on a battlefield that looked like a chessboard, and I found her lying on the ground…” You trail off, because the dream was actually kind of depressing and maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up.

“Sleeping or dead?” Rose asks.

“Dead,” you admit.

“So it was a murderdream,” Dave says.

“How did she die?”

Your memories of the dream are fuzzy. “She fell from the moon,” you say with a shrug and a smile. “It blew up and we fell. I think she saved me somehow, but I don’t know how.”

“Oh man, you don’t even know what kind of depths of depravity you just revealed to Rose,” Dave says. “Oedipal complexes and oral fixations and I don’t even know what else.”

“He said she was his sister, not his mother,” Rose replies calmly.

“Sibling fuckery,” Dave adds.

“Shut up, it wasn’t like that,” you say. The movie theater employees are starting to come in to clean up the place. You all get to your feet, spilling popcorn kernels off your lap.

“So what does it mean?” you ask Rose as she winds her scarf around her throat and puts her purse on her shoulder.

“You actually want me to analyze it?”

“Well…” You shrug. “Sure, why not?”

She smiles. “I don’t think it means anything. You’re thinking of Jade because you’re going to see her soon, but you don’t know when she’s going to arrive so there’s a degree of uncertainty to your meeting. You don’t know what to expect, and you’re a little anxious.”

“Also you’re in love with your father,” says Dave.

“That too,” Rose agrees.  


* * *

  
Dave has a terrible habit of texting you while the three of you are together. He’s probably texting Rose too, although you can’t tell. You keep surreptitiously checking your phone when Rose isn’t looking. It isn’t even about anything important. You think maybe he just likes maintaining his poker face and watching you try to do the same.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] \--

TG: do you think maybe your father was abused by cake as a child  
TG: he developed some sort of pastry related stockholm syndrome  
TG: spent a week tied to a chair being forced to eat nothing else  
TG: by the time they were through with him he was robbing banks side by side with betty crocker  
GT: ugh.  
GT: my birthday is the worst time of year for this.  
GT: i am so sick of cake.  
TG: its like the people who get seasonal affective disorder and get all depressed in the winter  
TG: for your dad april comes around and bam  
TG: caketime  
TG: the compulsion starts  
TG: just a little itch at first that he can almost ignore  
TG: and he thinks maybe this year he can get through it  
TG: maybe he can get by with a store bought cake  
TG: then he finds himself cruising the baking aisle at the market  
TG: eyeing up the sugar  
TG: dreaming about pastry tips  
TG: until suddenly its halfway through april and he wakes up in a pile of empty betty crocker boxes  
TG: frosting in his veins and a ring of flour around his nostrils 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] \--

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] \--

TT: I know that you’re texting him.  
TT: You’re trying to be subtle but you’re really not.   
GT: haha sorry.  
GT: he keeps texting me.  
GT: we’re not talking about you.  
TT: That’s okay. He and I aren’t talking about you.  
TT: But I guess we’re talking about him.   
GT: quick, change the subject.  
TT: I believe my mother thinks this trip was a transcontinental booty call.  
TT: I found a box of condoms tucked thoughtfully in my luggage.   
GT: rose!!  
TT: I plan to write her a thank you note.  
TT: And possibly include a picture of a negative pregnancy test.  
TT: I’ll have to think some more about that.   
GT: does your mother really think we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?  
TT: There is something so quaint in the way you say that.  
TT: I don’t know whether she thinks I’m dating you or Dave.  
TT: Or both, I suppose.   
GT: O.O

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] \--

\-- ÇÅÒˆˆ˝¨ÒÅ€ÅŒ¨Å‰ˆˆ¨Â [ÇÅ] began trolling ghostyTrickster [GT] \--

ÇÅ: Ï´Ï Å‰´ ÁØ¨ ˇÓ´‰´  
ÇÅ: „„ÓÁ Å‰´˜ˇ ÁØ¨ Å˜Í„´‰ˆ˜˝ Â´  
ÇÅ: Ï´Ï¿  
GT: hello?

\-- ÇÅÒˆˆ˝¨ÒÅ€ÅŒ¨Å‰ˆˆ¨Â [ÇÅ] ceased trolling ghostyTrickster [GT] \--

\-- ghostyTrickster [GT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

GT: is pesterchum working okay for you?  
GT: someone just tried talking to me but it was just symbols.  
TG: no problems here  
TG: im trying to convince rose that we should film a sex tape to leak to her mom   
GT: ew.  
TG: it would be tasteful  
TG: lots of soft lighting and smooth jazz  
TG: flower petals everywhere to imply that rose has been plucked   
GT: dave just shut up now.  
TG: it starts with a nice establishing shot of your house  
TG: pan up to your bedroom window  
TG: and there you are with rose in your mouth  
TG: wait  
TG: i meant a rose but you know what that works too

\-- ghostyTrickster [GT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] \--

TT: You’re blushing.  
TT: What are you talking about now?   
GT: please don’t ask.  
TT: The sex tape?   
GT: yes.  
TT: Dave wants ‘Birthday Sex’ for the soundtrack but I think I prefer something by Enya. You?   
GT: oh god.

\-- ghostyTrickster [GT] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

\-- ghostyTrickster [GT] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

GT: trisha yearwood.  
TT: This is a Con Air reference, isn’t it?   
GT: yes.

\-- ghostyTrickster [GT] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] \--

TG: there wont be any terrible movie references in my porno  
TG: no bunnies  
TG: no boxes  
TG: except for the one  
TG: and no sagging nicolas cage face  
TG: he looks like a horse  
GT: >:o

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] \--  


* * *

  
Four in the morning finds you in bed. Rose is sleeping in your bedroom for the week and you and Dave are camped downstairs on the sofa and an air mattress. When and if Jade shows up, she’ll share with Rose.

You’re on the air mattress because you’re taller than Dave and are too long for the couch. The house creaks as it settles for the night. Dave is already asleep, which would be surprising except he’s still on Central Time, so it’s six in the morning for him. Despite the long day, you’re wide awake.

Your phone buzzes. You figure Rose is still awake upstairs, but when you open your phone, it’s not Rose.

\-- ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆÍˇ ”ÇΩ’ began trolling ghostyTrickster [GT] \--

ÇΩ: FUCK, SOLLUX, I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN DO THIS.  
ÇΩ: REMEMBER THAT TIME THAT I VISITED AND WE WATCHED THE MOVIE WITH THE ROGUE IMPERIAL DRONES AND WE COULDN'T SLEEP ALL DAY, EVEN THOUGH THE DRONES WERE OBVIOUSLY SHITTY SPECIAL EFFECTS?  
ÇΩ: I JUST SAW A DRONE.  
ÇΩ: AND I THINK IF IT ASKS, I’M JUST GOING TO LET IT CULL ME.  
ÇΩ: JUST LAY DOWN AND WAIT FOR THE CULLING FORK.  
ÇΩ: IT WAS NICE KNOWING YOU.   
GT: haha um  
GT: what’s a culling fork  
GT: and do i know you?   
ÇΩ: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?   
GT: you’re the one who contacted me.  
GT: oh wait pesterchum says you’re a troll.  
ÇΩ: OF COURSE I’M A TROLL.  
ÇΩ: WHAT ELSE WOULD I BE.   
GT: what’s with the weird symbols? i can’t read your name.  
ÇΩ: HOW DID YOU EVEN GET ON MY CHUMPROLL?  
ÇΩ: I WOULD HAVE REMEMBERED SOMEONE THIS STUPID.  
GT: wow.  
GT: you’re kind of an asshole.  
ÇΩ: I AM BLOWN AWAY BY YOUR OBSERVATIONAL POWERS.  
ÇΩ: “YOU ARE A TROLL.” “YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE.”  
ÇΩ: YOU ZOOM IN ON THE TRUTH WITH PINPOINT ACCURACY.   
GT: so what’s a culling fork?   
ÇΩ: I’M SURE YOU’LL BE ACQUAINTED WITH ONE SOON.  
ÇΩ: ALTHOUGH YOU'RE A BLUEBLOOD SO MAYBE THEY'RE MORE LENIENT WITH OBVIOUS MENTAL RETARDATION.   
GT: you're not a very good troll.  
GT: first of all, you thought i was someone else, so you're not so smart yourself.  
GT: not only that, but i think you still think i'm someone else, because i don't know what you mean by blueblood but obviously i'm not one.  
GT: basically you just sound like you randomly picked someone to start talking to, thinking it was your friend, which you have to admit is kind of stupid.  
ÇΩ: YOUR TEXT IS BLUE BUT YOU'RE NOT A BLUEBLOOD?  
ÇΩ: THAT'S REALLY KIND OF  
ÇΩ: WELL I GUESS I'M NOT ONE TO TALK, BUT AT LEAST I'M NOT PRETENDING TO BE A HIGHER CASTE.  
GT: caste? are you from india?  
GT: that's the only place i can think of that uses a caste system.  
ÇΩ: INDIA?  
ÇΩ: WHAT’S INDIA?  
GT: oh man you really are a terrible troll.  
ÇΩ: I SUDDENLY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT'S GOING ON.  
GT: that makes two of us.

There is a pause in the conversation. Since you got that odd message earlier today, a bunch of names have been added to Pesterchum's trollslum, which had been empty up to this point. You’ve never used that feature before because you don’t usually talk to anyone online except Rose, Dave and Jade and you wouldn't classify them as trolls. All the names in the list are gibberish though.

GT: i guess something's wrong with pesterchum.  
GT: maybe i need to update it.  
GT: dave said he wasn't having problems but he uses a newer version than i do.  
GT: what version do you have?   
ÇΩ: I'VE NEVER HEARD OF PESTERCHUM.  
ÇΩ: I'M USING A NEW VERSION OF TROLLIAN.  
ÇΩ: A REALLY SHITTY, BUGGY VERSION THAT SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN RELEASED AND IS JUST A STERLING EXAMPLE OF THE SORT OF TERRIBLE CODING YOU DO WHEN YOU'RE TOO BUSY HAVING SLOPPY MAKEOUTS WITH YOUR NEW MATESPRIT AND ABANDONING YOUR BEST FRIEND TO THE IMPERIAL DRONES.   
GT: i basically understood half of what you just said.  
ÇΩ: DID YOU JUST HATCH YESTERDAY?   
GT: hatch?   
ÇΩ: HOW OLD ARE YOU? TWO SWEEPS?   
GT: i turn eighteen in two days!   
ÇΩ: HA HA ASSHOLE.  
ÇΩ: IT WAS A SERIOUS QUESTION.  
ÇΩ: IT'S JUST THAT YOU SOUND LIKE YOU’VE BARELY PASSED YOUR TRIALS.  
ÇΩ: THIS IS BASICALLY THE CONVERSATION I WOULD BE HAVING WITH A WIGGLER THAT'S EXCRETING ITS FIRST COCOON.  
ÇΩ: IF SUCH A WIGGLER HAD THE MANUAL DEXTERITY AND INTELLIGENCE TO USE TROLLIAN.  
ÇΩ: WHICH YOU APPARENTLY DON'T USE SO ACTUALLY THAT POINT IS MOOT.   
GT: are you roleplaying?   
ÇΩ: WHAT NO.  
ÇΩ: I'M NOT A GIRL.  
ÇΩ: I HAVE SOME SELF RESPECT.  
ÇΩ: VERY LITTLE, I'LL ADMIT, BUT ENOUGH TO AVOID THAT SELF-INDULGENT JACKFEST.   
GT: i really am eighteen.  
GT: well almost.  
GT: in two days!!  
GT: how old are you?   
ÇΩ: I WILL TURN EIGHT IN TWO DAYS.   
GT: no way.  
GT: you are not eight years old.  
ÇΩ: AND YOU ARE NOT EIGHTEEN.  
ÇΩ: YOU'RE TOO STUPID TO BE AN ADULT.  
ÇΩ: AND ANYONE THAT OLD WOULD ALREADY BE OFF PLANET.   
GT: off planet?  
GT: is this the sort of thing where you say you're not roleplaying but you only say that because you're actually roleplaying and admitting that you're roleplaying would be out of character?   
ÇΩ: IF YOU SERIOUSLY BELIEVE I'M ROLEPLAYING, IT'S POINTLESS OF YOU TO ASK THAT QUESTION.  
ÇΩ: BECAUSE I WOULD JUST KEEP TELLING YOU THAT I'M NOT ROLEPLAYING.  
ÇΩ: WHICH I'M NOT.  
ÇΩ: BUT I'M BEGINNING TO THINK YOU ARE.  
GT: i'm not roleplaying!   
ÇΩ: YOU'RE PRETENDING THAT YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A CULLING FORK IS, OR WHAT HATCHING MEANS. YOU CLAIM TO BE AN ADULT BUT YOU DON'T KNOW THAT ADULTS GET SHIPPED OFF PLANET WITH THE IMPERIAL FLEET BY THE TIME THEY GET THAT OLD. AND YOU'RE PRETENDING TO BE SOMEONE WHO'S PRETENDING TO BE A BLUEBLOOD. I DON'T KNOW OF A SINGLE TROLL ON ALTERNIA WHO COULD POSSIBLY BE THAT IGNORANT AND STILL MAKE IT PAST THEIR GRUB TRIALS.   
GT: haha okay. so you're a troll? on a planet called alternia? and you hatch instead of being born? do you live under bridges and eat goats?   
ÇΩ: EAT...  
ÇΩ: GOATS?   
GT: yeah you know. the goats who try to cross your bridge.   
ÇΩ: ...  
ÇΩ: LOOK AT ME. THIS IS ME BEING SPEECHLESS.  
ÇΩ: THIS DOESN'T HAPPEN OFTEN.  
ÇΩ: TREASURE IT, BECAUSE IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN.   
GT: you sure do talk a lot for someone who's speechless.  
GT: do you have horns?   
ÇΩ: OF COURSE.  
GT: what do they look like?   
ÇΩ: THEY ARE MAGNIFICENT.  
ÇΩ: YOU WOULD WEEP TO SEE THEM.  
GT: do you rip trees out of the ground and beat people with them?   
ÇΩ: I  
ÇΩ: NO.  
GT: are you speechless again?   
ÇΩ: SHUT UP.  
GT: i think you are.  
ÇΩ: OKAY I'M GOING TO TAKE THE BAIT.  
ÇΩ: I HAVE FOUR MORE HOURS TO KILL SO WHAT THE HELL.  
ÇΩ: WHO ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE.  
ÇΩ: AND BEFORE YOU ANSWER THAT QUESTION, BE WARNED.  
ÇΩ: IF YOUR ANSWER IS:  
ÇΩ: A) A CAT  
ÇΩ: B) A FAIRY  
ÇΩ: C) A SPIDERBITCH GAMBLIGNANT  
ÇΩ: OR D) A DRAGON  
ÇΩ: THEN THIS CONVERSATION IS OVER.  
GT: i'm just a human!  
ÇΩ: WHAT'S A HUMAN?  
GT: haha okay.  
GT: a human is a person who lives on earth!  
GT: um, i don’t know how else to describe it.  
GT: we don't have horns!  
GT: and we're born from our mothers instead of hatching from eggs.  
ÇΩ: UGH.  
ÇΩ: LIVEBIRTH.  
ÇΩ: LIKE SOME SORT OF MAMMAL.  
GT: yup!  
ÇΩ: DO YOU EAT GOATS?  
GT: nope! well, i mean i never have. but some people do, i guess  
GT: but i don't live under a bridge!  
GT: and i don't beat people to death with trees!  
ÇΩ: WHAT I CAN'T FIGURE OUT IS THIS: IF YOU'RE GOING TO ROLEPLAY AS SOMETHING YOU'RE NOT, WHY BE SOMETHING SO PATHETIC?  
ÇΩ: I MEAN, UNLESS YOU'RE TAVROS AND YOU HAVE A WEIRD OBSESSION WITH BOY SKYLARKS.  
GT: humans aren’t pathetic :/  
GT: although we don't have culling forks.  
GT: what's a culling fork?  
ÇΩ: I CAN'T BELIEVE I AM HAVING THIS CONVERSATION WITH YOU.  
ÇΩ: BUT OKAY.  
ÇΩ: A CULLING FORK IS WHAT THE IMPERIAL DRONES USE WHEN THEY CULL YOU.  
GT: cull=kill?  
ÇΩ: WELL IT'S DIFFERENT, OBVIOUSLY.  
ÇΩ: CULLING IS WHAT YOU DO TO GENETIC DEFECTS OR CRIPPLES.  
ÇΩ: IT'S TO KEEP THEM FROM CONTRIBUTING TO THE GENETIC SLURRY AND PROPAGATING THEIR WEAKNESS.  
ÇΩ: KILLING IS SOMETHING YOU WOULD DO TO SOMETHING YOU RESPECT OR FEAR.  
ÇΩ: CULLING IS A DISTASTEFUL NECESSITY THAT YOU DO TO SOMETHING BENEATH YOU.  
GT: harsh.  
GT: and you just saw a drone?  
ÇΩ: THEY WERE IN THE TRAIN STATION.  
ÇΩ: THREE OF THEM.  
GT: are you in danger?  
ÇΩ: I DON'T THINK SO.  
ÇΩ: WELL I MEAN  
ÇΩ: NOT IMMEDIATELY.  
GT: but later you will be?  
ÇΩ: OF COURSE.  
ÇΩ: THIS IS ALTERNIA.  
ÇΩ: LIFE IS A CONSTANT STATE OF DANGER.  
GT: so dramatic.  
ÇΩ: SHUT UP.  
GT: i'm getting tired.  
GT: it’s four am here!  
GT: actually no, it's almost five.  
GT: oops!  
GT: i should go to bed.  
ÇΩ: OKAY.  
GT: but you can troll me later if you want.  
GT: my name is john, by the way!  
CΩ: BYE JOHN.

\-- ÇÅ‰Çˆˆ˜Ø˝´˜´ˇˆˆÇˆˆÍˇ ”ÇΩ’ ceased trolling ghostyTrickster [GT] \--


	5. Chapter 5

**Tavros**

Your second train ride is during evening hours, so you can see out the train windows. That means that every once in a while you can see the drones moving into position, sometimes standing on the platform at a train station, sometimes clustered on a road, sometimes sweeping through an empty field. The curfew goes into effect in a few hours. You’re not sure what you’ll do when the train stops.

You think you’ve made a mistake.

You’ve made a few mistakes in the last few days.

You sit in the seat across the aisle from Karkat. This train is less crowded, so there is plenty of room, and Karkat looks like he prefers having a seat to himself. At least you won’t accidentally gore him with your horn, which you keep almost doing. It will spare you from most of his glaring and sighing. He’s not a very happy person as a rule, you don’t think.

Your torso aches with a dull, constant pain where your new legs meet your body. Climbing the stairs was really, really hard. Coming back down them to meet the train was harder. The healing salve is doing its job but everything hurts and you’re tired and you want to go back to your hive.

You can remember the day you fell off the cliff. Well, jumped. For one brief moment in time, you had wanted nothing more in the world to step off that cliff into midair and fly. You knew you could fly. You knew it with the power of every fiber of your being. And then you didn’t.

And once you hit the ground, you had contacted Karkat. Why him, you’re not sure. Terezi and Aradia weren’t answering you anyway and obviously you weren’t going to contact Vriska, and Karkat was online so you just trolled him. His response sticks in your memory to this day.

CG: STOP PLAYING GAMES FOR GIRLS

That was the point when you realized what an awful mistake you had made. You had acknowledged that FLARPing was dangerous, of course, but for some reason you’d never thought that you would be permanently maimed by the game. Killed, sure. Injured, of course. But stuck in this inbetween world of paralysis? Spending the next few sweeps knowing that your time was counting down and once the imperial drones came for you, you were dead? It wasn’t something you had imagined. In one short drop you had gone from being a healthy lowblooded troll to being cullbait.

Maybe they would have culled you anyway. You don’t know if you’ll ever be capable of having a kismesis, for one. You just can't hate anyone in that way, not even Vriska, who has done everything in her power to make you hate her. When she cut off your legs, she spared your genitalia because there was no point in fixing your legs just to damage you in a new way. The drones will cull you if you can’t produce the right genetic material. But even though you’ve got all the right parts, you don’t know if your brain is capable of doing the right thing at the right time. At least you have another sweep before you’ll have to face the filial pails.

The second mistake you made was even worse.

It takes you four tries to track down Gamzee in TrolliianExiile. The interface looks slightly better, like the problems are clearing up, but it’s still hard to tell who’s who on the chumproll.

\-- ÅÎˆˆØÍˇØ‰´ÅÎØ‰ [Å†] began trolliing ˇ´‰Âˆˆ˜ÅÒÒÁÇÅ∏‰ˆˆÇˆØ¨€ [†Ç] \--

Å†: gAMZEE,  
Å†: tHIS IS gAMZEE, rIGHT,  
†Ç: lAsT tImE i MoThErFuCkInG uP aNd ChEcKeD  
†Ç: hEy BrO  
†Ç: hOw'S tHe TrIp  
Å†: i THINK,  
Å†: i MADE A MISTAKE,  
Å†: aND i CAN’T FIX IT,  
†Ç: wHaT’s MoThErFuCkInG wRoNg My BrOtHeR?  
Å†: mY LEGS,  
Å†: wHY DID i CUT OFF MY LEGS,  
Å†: mAYBE THEY DIDN'T WORK,  
Å†: bUT THEY WERE MINE,  
Å†: aND IF THEY'RE GOING TO CULL ME,  
Å†: i WANT TO BE WHOLE,  
†Ç: i'M sOrRy  
Å†: i FEEL LIKE A FRAUD,  
Å†: wHY DID i THINK i COULD BE NORMAL,  
†Ç: :o(  
Å†: wHEN i HAD MY LEGS, i KNEW i WAS CULLBAIT,  
Å†: bUT NOW i'M PRETENDING THAT i'M NOT,  
Å†: wHEN i KNOW THAT i STILL AM,  
Å†: hAVING ROBOT LEGS IS HARD,  
Å†: aND THEY'RE NOT MINE,  
Å†: aND EVERYONE ONLY HELPED ME BECAUSE BEING HALF A TROLL IS BETTER THAN BEING A CRIPPLE,  
Å†: bUT i JUST WANT TO BE ME AGAIN,  
†Ç: i WiSh I cOuLd MaKe It AlL mOtHeRfUckiNg BeTtEr  
†Ç: iT hUrTs Me WhEn mY bRo Is In PaIn  
Å†: i’M SORRY,  
Å†: i SHOULDN'T BOTHER YOU,  
†Ç: nO tAv  
†Ç: DoN't Be LiKe ThAt  
†Ç: I dIdN'T kNoW yOu DiDn'T wAnT lEgS  
†Ç: i ThOuGhT wE wErE sAvInG yOu  
†Ç: wE wAnTeD tO kEeP YoU aRoUnD  
†Ç: lIfE wItHoUt My tAvBrO wOuLd Be A hArSh MoThErFuCkInG lIfE iNdEeD  
Å†: iT'S NOT THAT i DIDN'T WANT LEGS,  
Å†: i JUST DIDN'T REALIZE THAT LEGS WOULDN'T FIX EVERYTHING,  
Å†: i THOUGHT HAVING LEGS WOULD CHANGE ME,  
Å†: bUT i'M THE SAME TAVROS,  
†Ç: gOoD  
†Ç: i DoN't WaNt No OtHeR tAvRoS  
Å†: }:o)  
†Ç: tHeRe'S tHe SmIlE tHaT mAkEs Me HaPpY  
†Ç: WiTh ThAt LiTtLe RoUnD nOsE  
†Ç: hOnK :o)  
Å†: tHANKS, gAMZEE,  
Å†: yOU ALWAYS MAKE ME FEEL BETTER,  
Å†: i GUESS i JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND,  
Å†: wHY WE INSIST ON CUTTING OUT ALL THE WEAK PARTS OF OURSELVES,  
Å†: oR WHY WEAK IS SUCH A BAD THING,  
Å†: iT'S ALL ABOUT FITTING IN SO YOU DON'T GET CULLED,  
Å†: wHAT'S WRONG WITH BEING DIFFERENT,  
†Ç: pReAcH iT mY bRoThEr  
†Ç: wHy Is It AlL aBoUt ThE sUbJuGgLaTiOn  
†Ç: aNd NoT tHe MoThErFuCkInG BrOtHeRhOod  
†Ç: We'Re AlL bRoS iN tHis MiRaCuLoUs WoRlD  
†Ç: LeT's HoPe OuR cUtTlEfIsH sIsTeR cAn MaKe ThE cHaNgEs ShE wAnTs To MaKe WhEn ShE's iN cHaRgE.

Tinkerbull is stretched out on the seat next to you. He huffs a little in his sleep and you reach out and scratch under his chin. He opens one pale eye and blinks sleepily.

Your center of balance shifts slightly forward as the train applies its brakes. Your insides give an uncomfortable lurch and you see Karkat straighten in his seat.

Å†: tHE TRAIN IS SLOWING,  
Å†: i THINK THIS IS IT,  
Å†: tHE END OF THE LINE,  
†Ç: bE sAfE mY bRoThEr  
†Ç: i'Ll SeE yOu In ThE cItY  
Å†: gAMZEE,  
Å†: iF i DON'T SEE YOU,  
†Ç: DoN't SaY iT tAvBrO  
†Ç: ThE mIrThFuL mEsSiAhS wIlL gUiDe YoU tHrOuGh  
Å†: oKAY,  
Å†: bUT, uM,  
Å†: jUST IN CASE,  
Å†: <3

There is a pause and you quickly close the window and put your husktop in your sylladex before you can see his response. The train is slowing and everyone is getting up from their seats, stretching and looking anxious. Most of these people probably live here, and are just barely going to make it to their hives before the curfew descends.

You get up slowly. It still takes a moment for the commands from your brain to reach your new legs. You have to concentrate and it’s still not perfectly accurate. The hours you’ve spent sitting haven’t helped, either. Every part of you that isn’t made of metal is stiff and sore. You’ve been using muscles that you hadn’t used in sweeps. Every part of you that is made out of metal is cold and lifeless and dead and isn’t really a part of you at all. You wonder how long it took Vriska to get used to her robot arm. Maybe she got used to it faster because she hadn’t had to make the choice to cut off her old one first.

The train stops and there is a rush to get off. Karkat gets off ahead of you. You follow slowly and steadily behind.

There are two imperial drones standing on the platform, mutely observing the trolls who disembark. You keep your eyes down and don’t stop walking until you’re past them and inside the station.

“Keep walking,” Karkat mutters to you. “We have half an hour before curfew is final.”

You pass through the station and back out into the air. It’s actually warmer here than it was back at the last station. You’re a few hundred miles further east and it is late in the sixth dark season. It will keep getting warmer over the next few weeks, and sunlight hours will start lasting longer.

Karkat has obviously been studying the maps because he guides you down to the end of the street and then you turn right. This town that you’re in, whatever it’s called, is pretty small. From the glimpse you got from the map, the town abuts an expanse of forest that separates it from the lakes.

“Can’t you go faster?” Karkat grumbles as you walk.

“No,” you say. You’re really trying your hardest to go this fast.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he says.

“I was cut in half yesterday,” you reply.

He doesn’t answer that. You continue walking. The streets are silent. No one is out. You wonder if anyone is watching you from the windows of their hives. They could call and report you, but curfew hasn’t fallen yet. You still have a little bit of time.

You turn down another street. It’s a narrow cul-de-sac with a few hives on it, and the trees loom overhead.

“Two minutes,” Karkat says.

“How far away is the nearest shelter on the FLARP map?” you ask.

“At the pace we’re walking? Two hours.”

That’s just about when the sun will be rising. You almost want to cry. If only you had some sopor slime. If only you’d managed to sleep yesterday. If only you hadn’t climbed those stairs. Equius warned you about stairs.

“There.” Karkat breathes out. “Curfew.”

There is no appreciable change in the atmosphere, but suddenly you are fugitives. Every other troll in the grublands is hiding in their hive right now. Maybe there are a few other runners, or maybe not. Not everyone has friends willing to do illegal things to give you a place in the Imperial City. The best a lot of the runners can hope for is to avoid the imperial drones long enough to go feral in the wilderness.

You reach the end of the cul-de-sac. It ends in a slope leading down to the trees. You descend.

  


* * *

  


Progress is even slower than you had originally anticipated. It’s just that the ground is uneven and covered in soft, rotting leaves and full of fallen branches and you’re really, really tired. Your ears are straining for any other sound and you’re on edge. Tinkerbull is flying around your heads, occasionally landing on your horns and then taking flight again.

The woods are so quiet. Disturbingly so. Apart from the crash of your feet through the leaves, there is no other sound. Once or twice you’ve seen wingbeasts flying overhead, but nothing calls out. There are a lot of reasons that this could be the case, but none of them are pleasant ones.

An hour in, it happens. Karkat is a few dozen feet ahead of you. He sees something and starts flapping his hands at you, which probably is supposed to mean “be quiet”. You freeze.

In the sudden silence, you can hear something else moving through the trees. You shrink back to the nearest tree, moving carefully to avoid making unnecessary noise. You see Karkat crouch down behind another tree. His sickle appears in his hand.

You realize that you’re breathing hard, and every part of you is tingling with anticipation. You used to feel this way when you were FLARPing, just before the game started. There was always this moment of gut-liquefying terror.

Suddenly there’s a loud crashing nearby and a stag comes bounding through the trees. It’s big, and its horns are enormous. It leaps past you with a powerful thrust of its hind legs.

You reach out almost without thinking, and something inside your brain unfurls. Invisible fingers reach out and touch the stag’s brain. It slows and stops, wheeling around. It is not frightened. It hasn’t been running from danger. There is nothing ahead of you but small mammals and berries and, very soon, the rising sun.

Tinkerbull flies over to it and curiously touches his tiny nose to the deer's. The deer is watching you. Its natural fear is suppressed under the soft touch of your mind.

“Karkat,” you say. “Put away your sickle. I have an idea.”

You hear him approach you. “How long can you control it?” he asks cautiously.

“Long enough,” you say. The deer paws the moldering leaves and then steps toward you. Its eyes shift uneasily to Karkat but it still trusts you, so it comes forward.

“We don’t have a lot of time before the sun rises,” you say. “But we can go a lot faster if I’m riding.”

The stag stops next to you. Its shoulder is nearly as tall as yours. It kneels down enough so that you can sling one leg over its back, and then it lifts up again. You are raised dizzily into the air.

“Let’s go,” you say.

Now it’s Karkat who can barely keep up with the stag. The stag doesn’t run but it moves at a steady trot and you keep having to make the stag pause to let Karkat catch up.

“Can’t you call another one?” Karkat gasps to you at one such time as he catches up to you once again.

“If I see one,” you say, although you’re not sure if you can convince one to let Karkat ride it. He doesn’t seem to have a big affinity with animals. The stag takes off again and you leave him behind.

  


* * *

  


Forty minutes later, the sky is turning light. It’s a painful kind of light, like the dull throb of a sore tooth, or like a weight pressing behind your eyes. Karkat has the map out.

“To the east another mile,” he says. “There’s going to be a cave. If we’re lucky, there won’t be anything living in it.”

You keep moving. You’re starving, but you can eat once you get to the cave. First priority is shelter. After that, food and sleep are tied for second.

“I just want to curl up in these leaves and sleep,” Karkat says, echoing your thoughts.

“I haven’t slept without sopor slime in a really long time,” you say. “Just once when I was FLARPing and I stayed out too late.”

“Bad dreams?”

“Yeah.” You pause. “But since my horns got big I don’t really fit into my recuperacoon anyway so my dreams aren’t usually that great.”

Karkat eyes you. “One thing to be grateful for,” he mutters to himself.

“Just before I went to Equius’s, I dreamt Vriska asked me to kill her,” you say. The memory of the dream is suddenly vivid. You remember her body lying on the ground, and your own hands writing out her words in bright blue blood…

The sky is brighter. You’re squinting, and it’s getting harder to see as your pupils contract all the way.

“Is it nearby?”

“Half a mile, I think.” Karkat has his palmhusk out. He’s checking your location on the GPS. You urge the stag on a little faster and he hurries to catch up.

“Why did she turn you in, anyway?” Karkat asks.

“Uh.” You hunch your shoulders a little. “For my own good.”

“Fucking generous of her.”

“I hurt her,” you add.

“What did you do? Did she bruise her knuckles on your face or something?”

“I didn’t, um. Like her enough,” you say miserably. “I mean I like her, I just. Don’t like her in that way.”

“She’s insane if she thinks you’ll be her kismesis,” Karkat says dismissively. “I told her I didn’t think you were capable of it, just like she’s not capable of ever being anyone’s matesprit.”

“I have to have a kismesis someday,” you say.

“Maybe you can ask her to take over your brain and make you hate her,” Karkat says.

“She wouldn’t like that. She’d know it wasn’t real.” You sigh, looking away. “I want her to be happy. She’s my friend.”

“She doesn’t have any friends. She has pawns.”

“She’s my friend,” you repeat stubbornly.

Karkat scoffs but doesn’t argue anymore. For a few minutes you travel in silence.

Then Karkat checks his palmhusk again. He peers around, squinting, and points. “Just down that hill,” he says.

You start down the hill and sure enough, when you reach the bottom you find a spine of rock that has broken free from the ground. There’s a crevasse here leading into a comfortably dark space.

The stag kneels to let you off. You reach inside the cave with your mind, feeling for malleable animal minds. All you find are a family of nut creatures that scatter at your touch.

“You first,” Karkat says uneasily. You release your grip on the stag’s mind and it bounds away, off to find its own shelter. Your eyes are watering. You lower yourself to your hands and knees, gritting your teeth, and then crawl into the crevasse.

It widens into a cave that’s large enough for the two of you and Tinkerbull, though not a lot larger. The floor of the cave is soft with humus. You sigh with relief to be out of the light.

Karkat crawls in after you. “Thank fuck,” he mutters when he squeezes in next to you. “I’m going to sleep forever.”

You take some food for Tinkerbull out of your sylladex and feed him, then take out a sandwich for yourself. Karkat curls up on the ground and closes his eyes for a minute, then opens them and takes food out of his own sylladex.

“One day down,” he says. “The rest of our lives to go.”

You snort and he glances up at you, and then you see it. In much the same way that Vriska’s eye showed her blood color in bright blue threads radiating from her pupil, you can see that Karkat’s eyes are just starting to do the same. But the color is the brightest crimson you’ve ever seen. It’s not a natural color.

He catches your expression and freezes, then drops his gaze. “Uh,” he says. “Is it getting worse?”

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “Karkat…”

“I know,” he says defensively. “I’ll think of something.”

You don’t answer. Suddenly a lot of things about Karkat are starting to make sense. And your escape just got a lot harder.

  


* * *

  


Å†: oKAY,  
Å†: bUT, uM,  
Å†: jUST IN CASE,  
Å†: <3

\-- adiio2Toreador [Å†] cea2ed trolliing termiinallyCapriiciiou2 [†Ç] \--

†Ç: <3  
†Ç: :o)

\-- termiinallyCapriiciiou2 [†Ç] cea2ed trolliing adiio2Toreador [Å†] \--


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive my own interpretation of the Pupa Pan legend.

**Karkat**

You dream.

In the dream, you’ve just woken up. You’re lying on the floor of a golden room, and you’re dressed in golden robes. This awakening has been so long delayed that you were beginning to think it would never happen, and for one all too brief moment, you feel overpowering relief.

There is someone standing over you. Two black feet are braced on the floor. You raise your head to the smooth chitinous carapace, which is cracked where it has been impaled by a sword. A pair of magnificent wings branch out to either side, black as pitch, feathers splayed.  Two long tentacles lash sinuously through the air.

And that face: lupine, furred, but so familiar… You know that face.

And then the green lightning comes and—  


* * *

  
You wake up.

The cave is bathed in the murky gloom of late night. You peel your eyes open and try to roll over but you bump into Tavros and then remember where you are. You sit up.

Though you’ve slept for ten hours, you feel like you haven’t gotten any sleep at all. Your night was plagued with dreams that made no sense but left you with an unutterable feeling of unease. Meteors and a land of blood and the vacuum of space and a strange group of creatures called humans.

Well at least you know where that last dream came from. You pull out your palmhusk. TrolliianExiile is back to its hideous red and blue glory. Your chumproll now looks like this:

gho2tyTriick2ter  
tentacleTherapii2t  
turntechGodhead  
gardenGno2tiic  
apocalyp2eArii2en  
adiio2Toreador  
twiinArmageddon2  
carciinoGenetiicii2t  
ar2eniicCatniip  
griimAuxiiliiatriix  
gallow2Caliibrator  
arachniid2Griip  
centaur2Te2tiicle  
termiinallyCapriiciiou2  
caliigula2Aquariium  
cuttlefii2hCuller

The bright red text of turntechGodhead makes you hesitate. Surely that’s not his real blood color. No one would advertise that.

\-- carciinoGenetiici2t [CG] began trolliing turntechGodhead [TG] \--

CG: TELL ME THAT TEXT COLOR IS A JOKE.  
TG: youre right  
TG: its hilarious  
CG: THAT IS NOT THE COLOR OF YOUR BLOOD.  
TG: what no  
TG: im like one of those rivers in a third world country  
TG: pollution just pouring in  
TG: changing colors every day  
TG: taste the rainbow  
CG: HA HA.  
CG: THAT WAS ME BEING COMPLETELY FUCKING UNAMUSED.  
TG: dont tell me your blood is red  
TG: what are you some sort of freak  
CG: OF COURSE NOT.  
CG: FUCK OFF.

\-- carciinoGenetiici2t [CG] cea2ed trolliing turntechGodhead [TG] \--

\-- carciinoGenetiici2t [CG] began trolliing twiinArmageddon2 [TA] \--

CG: DON'T TELL SOLLUX BUT I THINK HE'S A BUGFUCKING UGLY NOOKSKEWER.  
TA: dont tell me you cant 2ee your chumproll agaiin.  
CG: NO THAT'S WORKING FINE.  
TA: a22hole.  
CG: THERE ARE SOME NEW TROLLS ON MY CHUMPROLL THOUGH.  
CG: I THOUGHT THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A TOP SECRET CHAT CLIENT.  
TA: ye2 ii 2aw them.  
TA: ii cant get riid of them.  
TA: and frankly ii dont care at thi2 poiint.  
TA: the drone2 are comiing tomorrow.  
CG: OH ARE THEY? I COMPLETELY FORGOT.  
CG: IT MUST HAVE SLIPPED MY MIND.  
TA: wa2 there a rea2on for thii2 conver2atiion or are you ju2t bored?  
CG: JUST BORED.  
TA: iim bu2y

\-- twiinArmageddon2 [TA] cea2ed trolliing carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

\-- carciinoGenetiici2t [CG] began trolliing gho2tyTriick2ter [GT] \--

CG: HELLO JOHN HUMAN.  
CG: OR ARE YOU NOT HUMAN ANYMORE?  
GT: oh look its the guy with that freakish red blood  
GT: johns in the shower  
CG: "SHOWER"  
CG: YOUR HEMOSTATUS IS SHOWING.  
CG: AND I DON’T THINK IT’S RED.  
GT: what the fuck  
CG: ARE YOU PRETENDING TO BE HUMAN TOO?  
GT: dont tell me john actually talks to you  
GT: dont get me wrong, trollbaiting is hilarious  
GT: except when its pathetic  
GT: and this is just pathetic  
GT: im doing this for johns own good

\-- gho2tyTriick2ter [GT] ha2 blocked carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

Well fuck everyone then if they’re not going to talk to you. You put away your palmhusk and poke Tavros. He mumbles something sleepily.

“Wake up,” you say. “Time to start walking. At the rate we’re going, we’ll get to the Imperial City in forty days.”

His eyes crack open and he yawns, showing a mouthful of fangs. He starts to prop himself up on his elbows, then freezes.

“Um,” he says. “Ow.”

“Let’s hope you can find another animal to ride. Or you know what? Maybe _two_ of them this time.”

He takes a tube of healing salve from his sylladex. “Maybe,” he says doubtfully. He lifts his shirt and then grabs the edge of his pants. “Don’t look,” he adds.

You avert your gaze while he wriggles his pants down far enough to access the seam where flesh meets metal. You take some food from your sylladex for breakfast and busy yourself with eating instead. You don’t have enough food for forty days, but hopefully at some point you’ll be able to buy or steal something.

Tavros finishes and recaptchalogues the healing salve. “Karkat,” he says cautiously. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“I just need… I just need time. A day maybe. I just… overdid it. Sorry.” He sounds miserable.

“We don’t have a lot of time!” you exclaim. “We can’t just sit here!”

“Why not? We can’t be any more fugitive than we already are.”

He’s not wrong. It’s not like you have a deadline to get to the city. As long as you find food before you run out, it doesn’t matter how slow you go.

“I wanted to get away from the hives before the drones started,” you say.

“We’re pretty far into the woods.”

“We’ll run out of food.”

“We’ll end up going faster if I can heal first.”

You growl in frustration. “I don’t see why I have to make allowances for you. I don’t have to take you along.”

“Um.” He looks down at his legs. “Then why don’t you go?”

You know what? You should go. He’s right. Get the fuck out of here. Leave this cullbait behind and get on your way. You’ll make much better time if you don’t have to drag him along.

Of course, that’s discounting the fact that he was faster than you when he was riding that stag yesterday. And now that you think of it, there are a lot of things in these forests that probably would respond well to Tavros’s animal empathy. Fangbeasts might think twice about eating you if Tavros is around to tell them not to. Maybe you should keep him around. And maybe you should try to give him a good reason to tell them not to eat you, because the way you’ve been treating him the last few nights hasn’t exactly endeared you to him.

“Maybe later,” you mutter, flopping back down onto the soil. You didn’t sleep well anyway. You’re tired and you can do with the rest.

Tavros pulls out his husktop. The light from the screen illuminates the small cave.

“I have a solar charger,” you say. “Sollux sent it to me. We can charge our stuff while we’re sleeping.”

“Thanks,” Tavros says distractedly. Something on the screen makes him smile.

“What?” you ask.

He shakes his head. You pull out your palmhusk again and scroll through your chumproll for someone to troll.

“It’s Gamzee,” Tavros says after a moment’s pause. You look at him again.

“You know he likes you, right?” you ask.

He smiles like he just can’t help smiling. “Yeah,” he says. “He told you?”

“I’m his moirail. Of course he told me.”

He types something and then glances at you. “I wish I had a moirail,” he says.

“You have a matesprit.”

“Are you flushed for anyone?”

“Fuck off.”

There is a silence. He actually looks wounded.

“It was just a question,” he says finally.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Okay.”

You hunch over your palmhusk. Most of your friends aren’t online right now. turntechGodhead is on but fuck if you’re talking to him. Or her. Or whatever. Gamzee’s online but Tavros is probably talking to him right now.

“If they find out what I am, they’ll cull my matesprit or kismesis,” you say after a long pause. Tavros has gotten into his TrolliianExiile conversation and it takes a moment before he raises his head, blinking.

“Because you’re a mutant?”

“Fuck you, cullbait.”

“But you are a mutant.”

“And _you_ are cullbait.”

“I know,” he says calmly. “We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t cullbait.”

You draw breath to respond and then you just let it go. Instead you say, “And it’s not like I need a matesprit or kismesis. I can’t ever contribute any genetic material or the drones would know what I was.”

“You don’t just have a matesprit or a kismesis because you need them to survive,” Tavros says. “You have them because… they’re important.”

“Don’t talk to me about romance,” you growl. “I know romance.”

He shrugs and leaves it there.  


* * *

  
Later, when you watch Tavros slowly and carefully creep from the cave to relieve himself outside, you realize that he really is in a lot of pain. You hadn’t thought much about the mechanics of limb removal, but apparently even with healing salve it’s still a pretty devastating surgery. You feel a little guilty. There was no reason to be an asshole about it. Then again, that’s never stopped you before.

He returns and lays down on the soil again, carefully straightening out his legs and adjusting his head so that his horns don’t scrape the stone wall of the cave. You want to tell him about your dream suddenly. It’s stupid, but you think he’d understand it. Instead you turn away and page through your sylladex.

“I finished Pupa Pan,” you say, ejecting it. It thumps onto Tavros’s chest.

“What did you think?” he asks cautiously.

“The villain is a blood mutant,” you say. “Corsair Claw is a feral adult who pretends at being a highblood gamblignant but fears her own blood more than anything else. Her blood color is so horrifying they never even say what it is.”

“In my defense,” Tavros says, “I didn’t know about your blood when I recommended the book.”

“I mean, I can see the appeal in Pupa Pan,” you add. “He refuses to grow up, so he never has to be classified by the imperial drones. And since he never grows up, his hemostatus is never visible, so you don’t know what he is either, but of course you know he’s still on the spectrum. He protects all the orphaned immature trolls from the adults, and he ferries dead grubs to the afterlife so they won’t be afraid, and the only thing he fears are lusi because he never had one of his own.”

“Pupa doesn’t care about hemostatus,” Tavros says. “He treats all trolls equally.”

“Sure, because he’s young,” you say. “So hemostatus doesn’t matter to him. But it still _matters_. Even though she’s a mutant, the Corsair is obsessed with status and being an ideal troll, and at the end when Pupa defeats her, she realizes that he’s a perfect troll without even trying, and she could never hope to have that. He doesn’t even have to defeat her. When she sees how pathetic she is, she gives up and culls herself.”

“But he’s a lowblood,” Tavros argues. “They never say it but he obviously is. He can talk to animals, like, um, me. He’s physically weak, like a lowblood. But he’s still the best of everyone! He’s the best swordfighter because he’s fast and smart, and he always wins his battles, and he’s the leader of all the orphan trolls even though they’re not all lowbloods like him, and the other gamblignants fear him even though they’re adults. So the story is saying that you can still be awesome even if you are lowblood. I guess, um. I guess that’s why I like it? I always wanted to fly and have adventures…” He hesitates, shooting a glance at you, “Even though I know that’s stupid, but I guess I also liked it because it was saying that lowbloods can be strong too, even if most people think we’re dumb and weak and useless.”

“The hemospectrum is stupid anyway,” you mutter.

“Yeah,” he replies.

“It wasn’t a bad book, though,” you add.  


* * *

  
\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] began trolliing carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

CA: kar you gotta help me  
CG: WHAT NOW.  
CA: shes not listenin  
CA: shes angry wwith me noww  
CA: i guess i said somefin wwrong  
CG: DID YOU CALL SOLLUX A PISSBLOOD.  
CA: it mighta slipped out  
CG: I TOLD YOU NOT TO.  
CA: i knoww but  
CA: i just got angry  
CG: I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU EXPECTED TO HAPPEN.  
CG: SHE’S NOT EVEN YOUR MOIRAIL ANYMORE.  
CA: wwere just goin through a rough patch  
CA: she still cares for me  
CG: I’M NOT SAYING SHE DOESN’T CARE FOR YOU.  
CG: SHE CARES FOR EVERYONE.  
CG: THAT’S SORT OF HER PROBLEM.  
CA: yeah but  
CA: okay wwhatevver  
CA: the point is she still plans to take that pissblood as her matesprit  
CA: and i think she doesnt realize wwhat a problem that is  
CG: SHE’S THE HEIRESS.  
CA: yeah and that aint nothin  
CA: but there are a lot of nobles that shes gonna piss off  
CA: like i mean its one thing to take some slavve as your kismesis right  
CA: if you get a good hate goin  
CA: and maybe its possible to havve a slavve matesprit in a wway like you lovve a pet  
CA: but thats not wwhat shes doin  
CA: she wwants to upset the wwhole fuckin hemospectrum  
CA: redefine wwhat cullin means  
CA: care for the genetic freaks and the cripples  
CA: maybe she wwants to end slavvery too i dunno  
CA: wwhat im sayin is that people are gonna be angry  
CA: and evven if shes the heiress, they can still kill her  
CG: WHAT ABOUT GL’BGOLYB.  
CG: NO ONE CAN KILL HER WITHOUT RISKING THE VAST GLUB.  
CA: yeah i knoww  
CA: but the current condesce isnt dead yet  
CA: shes still out there somewwhere wwith the fleet  
CA: if she needs to she can turn around and come back  
CA: and if gl’bgolyb changed sides once it can change again  
CG: ERIDAN, I KNOW THAT YOU THOUGHT THIS OUT A LOT.  
CG: AND YOU HAVE GOOD POINTS.  
CG: BUT I THINK MOSTLY YOU’RE ONLY UPSET BECAUSE SHE CHOSE SOLLUX OVER YOU.  
CA: i knoww it might look that wway  
CA: and im not sayin that if her feelins for me got a little redder that wwould be a bad thing  
CA: but eq agrees wwith me about this  
CG: EQUIUS IS A FREAK WHO GETS OFF ON BEING ORDERED AROUND.  
CG: HE WANTS THE HEMOSPECTRUM TO STAY EXACTLY THE WAY IT IS BECAUSE THEN IT’S EVEN MORE DEPRAVED WHEN ARADIA TELLS HIM WHAT TO DO.  
CG: I WOULDN’T USE HIS AGREEMENT AS PROOF THAT YOUR FEARS ARE JUSTIFIED.  
CA: yeah but hes an example of a proper highblood  
CA: i mean he cares about hemostatus a lot  
CA: gamz doesnt wwhich is really wweird for someone that high on the spectrum  
CA: and vvris pretends she cares but shes just jokin around  
CA: she thinks the hemospectrum is dumb  
CA: but theyre not representativve of the real wworld  
CA: its different out there  
CA: a lot of things are different  
CG: YOU’RE SAYING THAT AS IF YOU HAVE MORE EXPERIENCE THAN THE REST OF US.  
CG: WHEN YOU REALLY DON’T.  
CA: i do my research  
CA: i knoww wwho my ancestor wwas  
CA: i knoww my history  
CA: kar dont pretend like you dont agree wwith me  
CA: you knoww im right  
CG: LOOK  
CG: I AGREE THAT PEOPLE WILL BE UPSET.  
CG: AND WHAT FEFERI IS DOING IS GOING TO BE INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS.  
CG: BUT I THINK THAT IT MIGHT BE WORTH THE DANGER.  
CG: THE CHANGES SHE WANTS TO MAKE ARE REALLY GOOD CHANGES.  
CG: SPEAKING AS SOMEONE WHO WOULD BE DIRECTLY AFFECTED, I THINK WHAT SHE WANTS TO DO IS A REALLY FUCKING GOOD IDEA.  
CA: history wwasnt wwritten by the losers kar  
CA: no offense  
CA: society wwould collapse if wwe didnt havve a strong hierarchy  
CA: and letting the wweak contribute to the genetic slurry means wwe wweaken our wwhole species  
CA: evveryone knowws that  
CA: evven you  
CA: if you didnt you wwouldnt be so ashamed a your blood  
CG: YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT COLOR MY BLOOD IS.  
CG: FOR ALL YOU KNOW, I’M ASHAMED OF BEING SO FUCKING HIGH ON THE HEMOSPECTRUM THAT YOU’RE NOT FIT TO KISS MY FEET.  
CA: youre not  
CA: i dont need to knoww your blood color to knoww that  
CG: FUCK OFF.  
CA: youre still my friend though  
CG: FUCK OFF.  
CA: i hope you dont get culled  
CG: FUCK OFF.  
CA: bye  
CG: BYE.

\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] cea2ed trolliing carciinogenetiicii2t [CG] \--  


* * *

  
The sun rises and the cave slowly brightens to a point where you take a few things from your sylladex to shove in the crevasse and block it. You don’t want to sleep, not after the dreams you had last night. But you have to. If you actually expect to try and make some headway tomorrow, you’re going to need to get some sleep.

You curl up in the soil again and feel suddenly, overwhelmingly hivesick. You want your lusus and your recuperacoon. You want to laze around the hive and troll people on Trollian and play video games with Sollux and watch crappy movies and never, ever have to worry about the imperial drones at all. You want to live in a world where no one cares about the hemospectrum because whatever color blood you have stays inside of you and no one has to see it, and your eyes always stay the amber of an immature troll, and your friends don’t split up along caste lines, and no one ever grows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “[Captain Hook] was never more sinister than when he was most polite, which is probably the truest test of breeding; and the elegance of his diction, even when he was swearing, no less than the distinction of his demeanour, showed him one of a different cast from his crew. A man of indomitable courage, it was said that the only thing he shied at was the sight of his own blood, which was thick and of an unusual colour.” — from _Peter Pan_ , by J.M. Barrie.


	7. Chapter 7

**John**

You wake up at ten in the morning on your birthday to the smell of pancakes and coffee. You’re on the air mattress again, although you’ve lost your blanket in the night and your pillow is somewhere down at your feet.

“Happy birthday, loser,” Dave says, throwing a pillow at you from the couch. He’s still in his pajamas. His pale hair is sticking up in every direction but his sunglasses are on.

You bat the cushion away. “What are you doing up so early,” you groan, rubbing at your eyes.

“It’s the crack of noon in Houston,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the sun this high in the sky.”

You cover your head with the couch cushion, then sigh and toss it away. “I guess I’m up,” you mumble, sitting up. You really have to pee, and those pancakes do smell good.

Your father gives you a cheerful wave as you shuffle past the kitchen. “Morning, birthday boy!” he says, brandishing a spatula covered in pancake batter. “I have a stack of pancakes with your name on it!”

The stack is probably as tall as you are. You groan again and head for the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later you’re awake enough to accept a cup of extra light coffee from your dad. Dave joins you in the kitchen as Dad piles three plates high with pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

“Morning,” Rose says, coming into the room. She’s already dressed and looks like she’s been up for hours.

“Coffee?” Dad asks, already pouring some into a mug.

“Thank you,” she says, accepting it from him. She sits between you and Dave and begins stirring half and half into her coffee. “John, I wanted to tell you about my dream last night.”

Dave snickers and Rose hits him on the shoulder.

“Were there flower petals everywhere?” Dave asks. “And was John—”

You kick him under the table. Your dad is washing dishes at the sink and humming, and you would rather melt into the floor than have Dave finish that sentence out loud.

“Actually John wasn’t in it,” Rose says. “You were.”

It’s your turn to laugh. Dave kicks you back under the table.

“Look, Rose, I know I’ve got a really nice ass,” Dave starts.

“You were my brother,” Rose says. “We lived in a purple city on a moon.”

“Did it blow up?” you ask.

“No,” Rose says with a shrug. “Nothing happened, actually. We listened to music.”

“Ill beats, obviously,” Dave says.

“Well, of course.”

“And what’s your interpretation of that dream?”

She sends him a wry look. “Are you expecting me to say it was about sibling f—” She catches herself before she says it out loud. “It was just a dream, Dave.”

“Just a dream?” He shakes his head. “Rose, you’ve changed. I hardly know you anymore.”

Rose’s phone buzzes. She takes it out and glances at it.

“Oh!” she says. “Jade says she landed at the airport a while ago and she’s already in the taxi on her way here.”

“She should have called me!” you say in dismay, pushing back your chair. “I would have picked her up.”

“Apparently she’s been texting you,” Rose says.

“Oh.” Your phone is in the other room, probably somewhere under your blankets. “Well, she should be here soon then!” You get to your feet. “I’m not even dressed.”

“It’s just Jade,” says Dave, although you can see him surreptitiously smoothing down his hair.

You hurry upstairs and grab some clean clothes. By the time you’re dressed, Dave is too, and Dad is setting out a fourth plate on the table.

You hunt through the blankets and pillows on the living room floor until you find your phone. You have a series of missed texts from Jade.

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] \--

GG: im on my way!!!  
GG: ill be arriving at the airport by ten in the morning  
GG: but dont worry! i can find my own way to your house if youre not awake  
GG: its probably better if i dont wait for you, actually!  
GG: i want to make sure im there in time  
GG: also happy birthday john!!!!!!!!!!!  
GT: jade are you still there?  
GG: hi john!  
GT: hi! do you know where my house is?  
GG: of course i do!  
GG: im sure you told me once  
GT: okay...  
GT: well i’ll stand out in the yard and wait for you!  
GT: rose and dave are here  
GG: i cant wait to see you guys!  
GG: ive been looking forward to this for such a long time! :)

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] \--

You pull open the front door and step out onto the front step. The mid-morning air is cool but refreshing. Dave and Rose follow you, Rose still holding her coffee.

“I guess she is going to be on time for your birthday,” Rose says. “And we doubted her.”

“I’m so ashamed of myself,” Dave says. He walks down to the end of your driveway and peers up and down the street. The street is empty and quiet. “Suburbia gives me the creeps. It’s like the fucking Stepford Wives out here.”

A taxi turns onto the street. You join Dave at the mailbox and wave. The taxi comes to a stop in front of your house and you see a girl inside paying the driver. Then she bounds out of the back seat as the driver gets out to fetch her luggage.

“Hi!” she exclaims, and you meet her on the sidewalk to give her a big hug. Jade is a little shorter than Rose, and her long black hair has been tied back into a messy knot. Her round glasses bump against your cheek as you hug. This is the first time you’ve ever met her in person, but you’ve known her so long that it feels like a reunion.

“Glad you could make it, Jade!” you say, squeezing her tight.

“Happy birthday,” she says, grinning up at you. She lets go of you and flings her arms around Dave’s neck. “Hiiii cool kid!”

The driver leaves her luggage on the sidewalk and pulls away from the curb. Rose gives Jade a hug too.

“Let’s get inside!” you say. “We were having breakfast. Did you eat on the plane?”

“Not yet,” Jade says.

“Good! There are so many pancakes, Jade. So many.”

“No, I mean—” She glances up at the sky. “We can’t go inside yet.”

“What?”

“I just—” She looks back at you. “I just… wanted to have a breath of fresh air! I’ve been on the plane for so long. Can we wait a minute?”

“Sure,” you say. You see Dave and Rose exchange a glance.

“How was your flight, Jade?” Rose asks.

“Oh, it was fun!” Jade says cheerfully. “I love flying!”

“You have a private jet, right?” Rose asks.

“Well it’s not mine,” Jade says. “It’s my grandfather’s! He lets me use it, though.” She grabs your hand and squeezes it. “I really am glad to see you all. It’s been so long. I know we’ve never met before but… but it feels like we have, doesn’t it?”

“I’m glad you made it in time,” you say.

“Yeah.” She looks up. You follow her gaze, but there’s nothing up in the sky. When you look down again, she’s looking at you.

“I dreamed about this,” she says to you. “So many times! You don’t even understand.”

“There’s that d word again,” Dave says.

“What did you dream?” you ask.

Jade’s gaze moves to Dave and Rose, then back to you. “Am I being weird?” she asks you.

“No more than usual,” Rose says.

“Let’s just wait another minute,” Jade says. “Then we can go inside, okay? Just—give me a minute.”

“What are we waiting for?” you ask her. You’re a little embarrassed. You really like her—you’ve known her for so long!—but after the conversation you had with Dave and Rose yesterday, you just wish that she could act a little more normal. You’re used to her strangeness, and you even think it’s endearing, but right now, seeing her acting strange in person, you don’t know what to do.

Jade smiles and then suddenly the smile wobbles and she lets go of your hand. “I just sometimes know things that are going to happen before they do,” she says. She’s saying it to you, her voice quiet, as if she’s afraid that if she says it louder then you’ll start laughing. “Except sometimes they don’t actually happen, or— or they happened once, but not anymore, and—I’m not crazy.”

“Jade, it’s okay,” you say cautiously.

“I swear I’m not crazy,” she repeats.

And then the sky splits.

There’s a sound like a crack of thunder, only so massively loud that it’s not even a sound. It’s a physical sensation. You duck automatically even though it’s a stupid reaction because you can’t possibly escape something so gigantic and world shattering.

For one second, the four of you are standing on the edge of an abyss. Your house is at the top of a jagged pillar of rock and there is nothing but clouds below you and nothing but blackness above.

And you remember everything. The game. The trolls. The Breeze and the Reckoning and the Tumor and the Medium and the Scratch. You remember dying. You remember your father.

Jade is squeezing your hand. You look at her and Dave and Rose and you feel like it’s been so long since you last saw them.

Then reality reasserts itself. Sunlight returns in a blaze and the neighborhood is all around you again. You’re still holding Jade’s hand. It’s your eighteenth birthday and you have never died and neither has your father. The world has not ended.  
 “What the fuck,” sputters Dave.

“What was—” You spin around. “What just—”

Jade’s eyes are shining. “It did happen,” she says with such relief in her voice.

You look up. The sky is still split. It looks like a cracked plate that was glued back together.

“I feel like that’s new,” Rose says, looking up at it. Her voice sounds hollow.

“It happened five years ago,” says Jade. You’re all staring up at the sky.

“What?” You look at her.

“On your thirteenth birthday.” She looks back at you. And she’s right, of course. You do remember that it has been there for five years now. But you also remember that it only just happened, and you are so confused right now.

“Why do I have the feeling that you’re the only one who knows what’s going on, Jade?” asks Rose.

Jade shrugs and smiles. She looks happier than she did before. “Let’s go inside,” she says.  


* * *

  
“Do you remember your thirteenth birthday?” Jade asks you. You’re back in the kitchen, sitting over breakfast. Jade is sitting cross-legged in her chair, blowing across the top of a cup of tea.

“Sure,” you say with a shrug. “I guess? I mean, it wasn’t anything special.”

“You got the beta copy of Sburb in the mail,” Jade says.

You frown. “I haven’t thought of that game in years. We never played it, though. My disc was scratched. Rose was the only one who had a copy, and we needed at least two players.”

“It was scratched,” Jade echoes, putting down her tea. She runs a hand through her hair, looking a little sheepish. “Um, what I’m about to say is going to sound a little crazy.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Say it anyway.” Your head is full of a jumble of memories and thoughts. Those things you remembered when you were standing outside are all crowded together in your head, but they’re fading like the details of a dream. You’re trying to keep the vague impression of them in your head, but it’s hard.

“Okay,” she says, and pauses. “Imagine that you’re playing a video game, and you make a mistake, so now you know you'll never be able to defeat the final boss. You know you can't fix the mistake, so instead you just restore from a save point that is from before you made that mistake.”

“With you so far,” says Dave.

“Does this have something to do with Sburb?” you ask.

“Yes,” she says. “But… imagine that the save point is actually a point from before you even started playing the game! And now your life is going differently because you never played the game at all.”

“Is this meant to explain what happened outside?” Rose asks.

“Just wait, I’m not done explaining yet,” Jade says. “Now normally the boss would be reset with the rest of the game, right? But imagine that… imagine that part of your mistake was giving the boss the ability to exist outside of time. So it doesn't matter if you reset the game to your last save point. He still exists, and he has always existed, and he always will exist. So you can't ever erase your mistake, can you?”

“Jade,” Rose says. “I don’t…” She trails off. None of you know what to say. This is just Jade being Jade again, except something seems different and you really want to believe her. The things she’s saying sound right in your head, even though your memories are fading with each passing second.

Jade looks from Rose to Dave and back to you, and you can tell that she knows she’s losing you. “I have dreams. They never make sense. They always tell me about things that haven’t happened. But I— I know they're real. I know you don't believe me but they're real. They're just from a universe that doesn't exist anymore.” She’s near tears again. “You’re really my brother, John. And Rose and Dave are siblings too. It’s complicated but it’s true and I don’t know how to explain it in a way that you’ll believe me!”

“I dreamed about that,” you say. “That you were my sister. And you died.”

Jade nods eagerly. “Jack blew up the moon. You were still asleep and we were all falling and you were going to die without ever waking up and I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Jack…” Dave says with a frown, like it’s a name he used to know. You feel the same way.

“Jack Noir. The final boss from the game. We reset the game but he’s still there.” Jade looks at each of you, her green-eyed gaze intense. “He’s outside of time, so even though he was created in an alternate timeline that no longer exists, he’s not bound to that. We locked him away inside the game and started our new lives here, but he’s had all the time in the world to try and figure out how to break through.”

“So what you’re saying is that the crack in the sky—” Rose starts.

“That was him banging on the door,” Jade finishes.

“How long until he makes it through?” you ask, looking uneasily toward the window. “If it took him five years to make that crack—”

“No,” Jade says, shaking her head. “Time is meaningless in this context. He didn’t make that crack five years ago. It’s just—an echo, I guess!”

“So he could come through at any time,” Dave says. “A week from now or twenty years or a few millenia.”

“He could. He will. He already has.” Jade momentarily clutches at her face. “Time stuff is so confusing.”

“How long do you think we have?” Rose asks quietly. “From our point of reference.”

Jade looks at her, then at you and Dave. “I don’t know,” she says. “I wasn’t the one good with time stuff! I was the Witch of Space! I know that the other universe wasn’t really able to reset, because he’s stuck in there, holding it open. I don’t know when he’ll get out. But when he does…” She shrugs helplessly. “It’s gonna be bad.”  


* * *

  


**END ACT ONE**


	8. Chapter 8

**Intermission: A series of conversations**

AG: Taaaaaaaavros  
AG: Still alive out there?  
AG: I just wanted you to know...  
AG: I don't 8lame you!!!!!!!!  
AG: ::::)  
AT: bLAME ME,  
AT: fOR WHAT EXACTLY,  
AG: For giving up!  
AG: I knew you were too pathetic to fight the drones  
AG: Even though that would have solved all your pro8lems.  
AT: yOU KNOW i WOULD HAVE LOST,  
AT: i'M ONLY EIGHT SWEEPS,  
AT: i CAN’T FIGHT A DRONE,  
AG: Don't pretend that your age is the reason!  
AG: If you were a real troll you could do it.  
AG: 8ut you're not, are you?  
AT: i KNOW THAT YOU'RE TRYING,  
AT: tO MAKE ME FEEL BAD,  
AT: bUT IT'S NOT GOING TO WORK,  
AG: Why not?  
AG: And no, I'm not trying to make you feel 8ad!  
AG: I'm just telling you the truth.  
AT: i'VE SEEN REAL DRONES,  
AT: nO ONE CAN FIGHT A DRONE,  
AG: I saw them when they came to classify me!  
AG: They’re 8ig but I could fight them if I wanted.  
AG: They're no match for my fluorite octet!  
AG: :::;)  
AT: mAYBE,  
AT: i HAVE TO GO NOW,  
AG: Try not to die, Pupa!  
AG: If you make it through the gru8lands, I might even have some respect for you!  
AT: rEALLY?  
AG: May8e!  
AG: May8e not!  


* * *

  
TC: hEy My TaVbRo.  
TC: tHiS pLaCe KiCkS tHe WiCkEd ShIt.   
AT: yOU MEAN, yOUR NEW HIVE?   
TC: yEaH bRo.  
TC: BuT nOt JuSt ThAt.  
TC: ThIs WhOlE MoThErFuCkInG cItY.   
AT: wHAT IS IT LIKE?   
TC: hAnG oN.  
TC: LeT mE gEt My DrInK oN aNd ThEn I'Ll TeLl YoU aLl AbOuT tHiS aWeSoMe MoThErFuCkInG cItY.  
TC: sO yOu KnOw AlL aBoUt It WhEn YoU gEt HeRe.  
TC: HoNk :O)   
AT: oKAY,  
AT: tELL ME EVERYTHING,  
AT: i WOULD TELL YOU ABOUT WHERE i AM,  
AT: bUT THAT WOULDN'T TAKE TOO LONG,  
AT: mOSTLY IT'S JUST TREES,  
AT: aND, sOMETIMES SOME LAKES,  
AT: bUT THAT'S REALLY ALL THERE IS TO SAY,  
AT: oN THE MATTER,   
TC: HaAhAaHaHaAhA.  
TC: i AlWaYs LiKe HeArInG aBoUt WhErE yOu ArE.  
TC: ThAt'S a WhOlE PaRt Of ThIs BeAuTiFuL cReAtIoN tHaT nO oNe EvEr SeEs.  
TC: It'S bEaUtIfUl aNd MiRaCuLoUs.  
TC: i WiSh I wAs MoThErFuCkInG ThErE.   
AT: i WISH YOU WERE TOO,  
AT: eXCEPT ONLY IN THAT YOU COULD SEE IT WITH ME,  
AT: bUT NOT BE CHASED BY DRONES,  
AT: oR RIPPERWASPS,   
TC: rIpPeRwAsPs ArE pArT oF tHe WhOlE mOtHeRfUcKiNg tApEsTrY oF lIfE.  
TC: dOn'T dEnY mE mY rIpPeRwAsPs Bro.  
TC: :O)   
AT: oKAY,  
AT: yOU CAN HAVE THE RIPPERWASPS,  
AT: tELL ME ABOUT THE CITY,   
TC: oKaY bRo, hErE iT iS.  
TC: mY hIvE iS rIgHt In tHe MidDLe Of ThE cItY bY tHe PaLaCe.  
TC: I cAn SeE tHe MoOnS rIsInG rIgHt OvEr ThE sEa AnD tHoSe bEaUtIfUl MoThErFuCkiNg SpIrES.  
TC: iT's LiKe SoMe KiNd Of bIg MoThErFuCkInG cAkE.   
AT: wHAT IS YOUR HIVE LIKE?   
TC: iT uSeD tO bElOnG tO sOmE wIsE mOtHeRfUcKeR wHo hAd a LoT oF bOoKs AnD pAiNtInGs AnD sHiT.  
TC: hE lEfT tHeM bEhInD wHeN hE sHiPpEd oUt.  
TC: hE lEfT hIs SeRvAnTs ToO.  
TC: ThEy ArE sOmE cHiLl MoThErFuCkErS.   
AT: aRE THEY NICE?   
TC: ThEy'Re AlL PrEtTy SwEeT.  
TC: ThEy DoN't LiKe My BaKiNg, ThOuGh.  
TC: :O(  
TC: tHeY sAy tHaT sHiT rUsTs mY tHiNk PaN.   
AT: i DON'T KNOW,  
AT: i PERSONALLY WOULDN'T EAT IT,  
AT: bUT THAT'S JUST ME,  
AT: aRE YOU GOING TO STOP?   
TC: i DoN't WaNt To DiSaPpOiNt ThEsE sWeEt MoThErFuCkErS.  
TC: mAyBe I'lL sEe If We CaN cOmE tO sOmE sOrT oF aGrEeMeNt.  
TC: oVeR pIe :O)   


* * *

  
CA: its not that i wwant anyfin to go wwrong wwith their plan  
CA: i mean i think itll go wwrong on its owwn  
CA: thats the problem  
CA: i dont wwant to sabotage anyone  
CA: i wwant them to just stop   
CT: D --> You feel that the highb100ds will harm Feferi   
CA: of course they wwill  
CA: if they can find a wway they wwill   
CT: D --> But what of Gl'bgolyb  
CT: D --> Surely that is the greater threat   
CA: i dont knoww  
CA: maybe they dont need to kill fef to shut her dowwn  
CA: if they just got rid of the pissblood she might stop  
CA: i mean shes not gonna let gl'bgolyb kill evveryone out of revvenge  
CA: shes not that kinda troll  
CA: wwhich is another of her problems   
CT: D --> Maybe that is your answer   
CA: wwhat  
CA: kill sol   
CT: D --> I am not recommending it as a course of a%ion  
CT: D --> I am just pointing out that you have presented it as a so100tion   


* * *

  
GC: H4V3 YOU T4LK3D TO TH3 N3W TROLLS ON TH3 L1ST?  
GC: ON3 OF TH3M TYP3S 1N TH3 MOST D33333333L1C1OUS R3D T3XT   
CG: DO YOU REALIZE YOU TYPED EIGHT 3'S IN DELICIOUS?  
CG: WHICH I KNOW SOUNDS FUCKING INSANE BECAUSE THERE ARE NO 3'S IN DELICIOUS.   
GC: 1 D1DNT COUNT  
GC: >:[   
CG: AND DON'T TALK TO THEM.  
CG: THEY’RE ALL A BUNCH OF FUCKING GRUBFONDLERS.   
GC: 1 H4V3 TO D1S4GR33  
GC: 1 DONT TH1NK D4V3 H4S 3V3R FONDL3D 4NY GRUBS   
CG: DAVE.   
GC: TH4T 1S H1S N4M3!   
CG: WHAT KIND OF A NAME IS THAT.   
GC: 4 LOV3LY ON3  
GC: H3 IS TH3 COOOOL3ST OF COOLK1DS  
GC: <\-- TH4T W4S ONLY FOUR OS   
CG: YOU DON'T FIND IT WEIRD THAT HE TYPES IN RED TEXT?   
GC: 1 F1ND 1T  
GC: D333333333L1C1OUS  
GC: <\-- N1N3 3S   
CG: THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT.   
GC: 1 DONT TH1NK 1TS 4CTU4LLY H1S BLOOD COLOR   
CG: HOW DO YOU KNOW?   
GC: YOU JUST DONT KNOW H1S S3NS3 OF HUMOR  
GC: >:]   
CG: OKAY BUT  
CG: WHAT IF IT WAS?   
GC: YOU M34N 1S H3 H1D1NG 4 MUT4T1ON 1N PL41N S1GHT?  
GC: HMMMM  
GC: TH4T WOULD B3 1NTR1GU1NG  
GC: 1 WOULD B3 FORC3D TO THOROUGHLY 1NV3ST1G4T3!   
CG: WOULD YOU TURN HIM IN?   
GC: 1 C4NT D3C1D3 WH3TH3R YOU 4R3 TRY1NG TO TURN M3 4G41NST D4V3 OR WH3TH3R YOU 4R3 US1NG TH1S S1TU4T1ON 4S 4N 4N4LOGY FOR YOUR OWN MYST3R1OUS BLOOD COLOR   
CG: IT'S JUST A QUESTION.   
GC: BUT 1 4M 4N 1NV3ST1G4TOR  
GC: 1 S33 P4ST QU3ST1ONS  
GC: 4ND R1GHT 1NTO TH3 M1NDS TH4T 4SK3D TH3M!   
CG: RIGHT. YOU WANT TO BE A LEGISLACERATOR. SO WHICH IS MORE IMPORTANT: JUSTICE OR YOUR FRIEND?  
CG: WAIT, NOT FRIEND  
CG: I MEANT “GRUBFONDLER”   
GC: YOU 4R3 MY FR1END, K4RK4T  
GC: 1 W1LL NOT TURN YOU 1N  
GC: WH3TH3R YOU FONDL3 GRUBS OR NOT  
GC: >:]  
GC: JUST1C3 H4S TO KNOW WH3N TO TURN 4 BL1ND 3Y3  
GC: 4ND 1 H4V3 TWO OF THOS3!  
GC: OK4Y?   
CG: OKAY.   


* * *

  
GT: hey how was your flight?   
TT: Interminable.  
TT: But I did arrive safely.   
GT: good :)  
GT: did you have a good time at my house?   
TT: For the most part, yes.  
TT: Apart from... shenanigans.   
GT: yeah.  
GT: um i wanted to ask you.  
GT: remember when the sky cracked?   
TT: Of course.   
GT: did you feel like you suddenly remembered a bunch of stuff?  
GT: like all at once?   
TT: Yes.   
GT: how much of it do you remember now?   
TT: ...It's hard to say.  
TT: I would almost be tempted to say "all of it"  
TT: Except I can't seem to access that information.  
TT: It's on the tip of my tongue but I can't actually remember a single thing.  
TT: Just the conversation afterward with Jade.   
GT: yeah me too.   
TT: And while at the time Jade’s explanation seemed to make perfect sense, I confess that my sense of certainty is dissipating.   
GT: i think i still believe her, but...  
GT: man, it's hard.  
GT: i don't know.  
GT: video games and cracks in the sky and final bosses.   
TT: The crack is still there.   
GT: yeah but it's been there for five years.  
GT: remember?   
TT: I know. It happened five years ago, and it also simultaneously happened a few days ago. The fact that it happened at all is what troubles me.  
TT: A crack in the sky.   
GT: yeah.  
GT: that can't be good.   


* * *

  
AC: :33 < *the furrocious kitty wriggles her butt in the air in preparation for a giant pounce!*  
AC: :33 < *she is very pleased to see her new friend!*   
GG: hi again!  
GG: i mean *jade smiles and waves hello!*   
AC: :33 < *the dangerous cat tacklepounces jade to the ground! but instead of mauling her, she touches noses with jade and then curls up next to her, purring*  
AC: :33 < *purr purr purr*   
GG: oh gosh!  
GG: i hope you don't mind the smell of my dog  
GG: his hair gets everywhere   
AC: :33 < *the kitty opens one eye and growls a little, looking around for the dog*  
AC: :33 < *but since he isn't here, she just goes back to sl33p!*   
GG: :)   
AC: :33 < *but she’s not really sl33ping because she’s hoping that jade will tell her more about humans!*   
GG: only if you tell me more about trolls!   
AC: :33 < ok!   


* * *

  
CC: You would LOV-E t)(e sea!!  
CC: It’s so muc)( more beautiful t)(an land.  
CC: T)(e coral reefs are like lace and flowers  
CC: only B-ETT--ER!  
CC 38)  
GA: I Admit I Am Intrigued  
GA: But As I Do Not Have Gills I Fear The Point Is Moot  
GA: My Inferior Blood Is Also An Issue  
CC: True 38(  
CC: Not t)(at your blood is inferior!  
CC: But t)(e other sea dwellers would be upset  
GA: In Any Case, I Maintain That You Would Love The Sunlight If You Were Able To Stand It  
GA: I Look Forward To The Light Season  
GA: So Many Beautiful Things Only Come Out In The Light  
CC: So do t)(e undead 38/  
GA: Yes  
GA: But Feferi You Should See The Colors  
GA: They Are So Much Brighter In The Sun  
CC: I wis)( I could  
CC: I can’t WAIT to see you!  
GA: I Am Also Looking Forward To It  
CC: It will be so much fun to )(ave you as my ambassador to the Mot)(er Grub!  
CC: It’s always good to )(ave fronds on my side.  
CC: I t)(ink I’m going to need them.


	9. Chapter 9

**ACT TWO**

  


* * *

  


**Eridan**

You weren’t prepared for the Imperial City. That’s one thing that you’re willing to admit to yourself right here and now: you really had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

The thing is, you’ve done your research. You read everything there was available to read about the Empire. You’re a prince, coddamnit. This is your hatchright.

But you grew up on a shipwreck in the middle of the ocean, and the only trolls you met were few and far between. You didn’t associate with land dwellers—at least not in person. You admit to having a few strategic relationships, purely in the know-your-enemy sense, but it’s not like you ever met them in real life. And the thing about the Imperial City is that it’s really fuckin’ big. Even though ninety-five percent of all adult trolls get shipped into space with the Imperial fleet, that still leaves four hundred million adults on the planet’s surface, and most of them are concentrated on the northeastern expanse of the main continent, centered in the Imperial City.

You’ve been here for a week now and your skin still crawls at the thought of all those trolls breathing the same air as you.

\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] began trolliing cuttlefii2hCuller [CC] \--

CA: fef im wwaitin  
CA: are wwe havvin dinner or wwhat  
CC: Waiting w)(ere?  
CC: I don’t seeeeaa you!  
CC: 38)  
CA: im not gettin my clothes wwet  
CA: i just changed  
CC: T)(at sounds like land dweller talk to me!  
CC: glub glub!

You sigh. You’re in the east end of the palace, by one of the main stairwells leading down into the royal quarters. Only the upper echelons of troll government are allowed downstairs. It’s an edict that’s easily enforced, since only the upper echelons of troll government have gills.

Water laps against the step just below your feet. Your shoes might survive getting wet, but you don’t want to walk around in wet shoes all day, and it’s a hassle to return to your own quarters and change them. Sure, you could get some of that amphibious footwear that a lot of the royal trolls wear to avoid this annoyance, but have you seen that footwear lately? It’s a glubbin’ fashion _tragedy._

CA: wwell if you dont wwanna havve dinner wwith me i can find someone else  
CC: 38( I'm on my way!  
CC: No need to get your fins in a twist, Mr Fussypants!

Good, because actually you don’t know anyone else to have dinner with. Fef probably knows that, too. You fidget on the step and scowl as a servant hurries past.

You are a member of the elite ruling class. The blood running through your veins is the pure, viscous purple of royalty. Trolls of your status are destined for powerful positions in the fleet. In two sweeps you will be off planet, commanding a crew of subordinates. This is what you were hatched to do. Great military leaders rule through fear and an iron fist, not through kindness and friendship. So, really, it’s a good thing that you don’t have any friends. It’s just practice.

The water jostles against the lower step and then suddenly Feferi is breaking the surface. Her long hair plasters itself to her back. The droplets just rolls off her gown, leaving it in that oily-dryness that all clothes meant for the ocean maintain. She grins at you.

“I wasn’t going to abandon you!” she says cheerfully. She throws her arms around you, giving you a hug and purposefully leaving damp spots on your shirt. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in days!”

You hug her back, squeezing her tightly for a moment. She is so soft and cheerful and wonderful and perfect. You have spent more days apart in these last few weeks than you had in your entire life up to this point, and you really fuckin’ missed her. And god, what you wouldn’t give to hear her say that she missed you just as much.

“We’ve both been busy,” you say. “There’s so much to do.” You let go of her and you both step up to the top of the stairs. Fef’s shoes squeak on the floor, leaving wet footprints. You can see a servant hovering at the edge of the room, waiting to mop it up as soon as you two leave.

“Soooo busy,” Fef agrees. She links her arm through yours. “I have to tell you all about it. Where do you want to have dinner? I can have my chef prepare something, or we can go out! I haven’t even been out into the city that much.”

Neither have you. You haven’t really interacted with anyone outside the palace yet. But on the other hand, if you head to her quarters, you might have to interact with a certain bipolar pissblood, and you’d really rather avoid that.

“Let’s go out,” you say.  


* * *

  
It’s late in the evening, and the streets are crowded. Feferi’s bodyguards keep a comfortable perimeter around you as you walk. Feferi is wide-eyed as she takes in the sights.

The Imperial City is thousands of sweeps old, and sits sprawled on the coast like a beached animal. Under its belly are the tunnels and hollows where the trolls travel when the light season comes. Most of the oldest parts of the city are hewn from stone and worn by many sweeps of weather and life. One of the moons has already set, so the colorless light of mid evening has segued into the pink light of late night. You have plenty of time for dinner, though. The sun won’t be up for hours.

You find a tiny place not far from the palace. The bodyguards clear it out and the two of you sit at a table in the middle of the empty restaurant. It’s obviously a place that caters to the upper classes, since there’s a lot of raw seafood on the menu. Feferi orders squid in ink. You order lightly seared tuna. Feferi shoots you an amused look.

“What?” you say defensively. “I’m bein’ multicultural.”

“It’s so exciting to be here!” Feferi says when the waiters disappear and leave you into some semblance of privacy, as if that’s possible with so many bodyguards around. “I can’t believe we’re finally here!”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I mean, it’s a nice change a pace.”

“It’s amazing,” she says happily. “There are so many people! And the palace is beautiful. And the food is delicious! A few of us went out into the ocean and hunted a whale yesterday. It was so much fun!”

“Remember when we did that?” you say wistfully.

“And I’ve already been making progress on my project! People are really interested, Eridan. I’ve been having meetings with so many people.”

“Really?” You straighten in your seat uneasily. “Already?”

She rests her elbows on the table and leans in. “It’s just talk right now. I know it’s going to be a while before we can make any actual changes. But I’m really happy with this. I think that it’s going to work out. And Sollux says—”

You groan and some of her enthusiasm drains away. “Eridan,” she says sternly. “He’s my matesprit.”

“Don’t say that too loud, okay?”

“Why? He is my matesprit and I don’t care who knows it.”

You rub at your chin. “He’s a—he’s your servant, Fef. People will talk.”

“I’m the Heiress,” she says. Her voice is very cold. Colder than she’s ever used with you before. You’re in dangerous waters, you can tell.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you say. “What you say is law. I just—I’m worried about you.”

“I know you are,” she says quietly, the coldness passing from her voice.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” You pause, trying to think of a way to phrase this without pissing her off. Shit, you should have trolled Kar before this conversation. He’s bizarrely good with this sort of thing. “I, uh, just think that you’re in a tough part of your life right now, with your big project, and what you need is someone who knows a lot about troll royalty. Like… an advisor. Someone who can play devil’s advocate with you and show you the pitfalls a your plans, and make sure you don’t make any hasty decisions.”

There is a pause. She toys with her glass of water and a servant hurries over to refill it. When the servant retreats, she says, “Eridan, we’re not moirails anymore.”

“I know,” you say immediately. “I know, I just—” You stop, because you don’t know how to continue. Wow, you’re pathetic. You have always wanted to have Fef as a matesprit, but you’d be happy with her as a kismesis, or as a moirail, or even as a goddamn _auspistice_. You just want her in your life and it makes you so frustrated that she doesn’t feel the same.

And it’s not like she hates you. She doesn’t hate you. As far as you know, she doesn’t hate anyone. She just doesn’t like you _enough_.

“I don’t think you’re actually qualified to advise me on this,” Fef adds. “Don’t get me wrong, Eridan. I really do value your opinion, and we are friends. But I know that you can’t think rationally about this because—well, because of Sollux, and while I do agree that I need someone to give me the other side of this issue, you are not that person.” She looks at you beseechingly. “Eridan, you are my friend. I didn’t stop being your moirail to punish you. I just didn’t feel like I was up to the task anymore. You need someone who can devote all of their time to you, and I can’t in good conscience take on that responsibility. It would be unfair to you.”

“Fef, I don’t care,” you say.

“But I do! I know you’d settle for me as your moirail no matter how terrible a job I did, but you need someone better, and you won’t find that person unless I’m out of the way.”

“Don’t pretend you’re doin’ me a favor,” you say stiffly.

She looks down. “I know it doesn’t look like one,” she says. “But I promise you, Eridan, it is.”

You have entirely lost your appetite. You want to get up and leave but, well. Storming out on dinner with the Heiress would be all kinds of scandalous. Not that this Heiress doesn’t seem to court scandal like it’s her fuckin’ _matesprit._

“So tell me about your week,” she says.

You’re still angry, but you accept the change in subject. “I took the entrance exams for the military academy,” you say sullenly. “I’ll know my results in a perigee.”

“Of course you passed,” she says. “You probably got the top score, too.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

Her face falls. You feel abruptly guilty.

“I guess I’m just nervous, is all,” you say. “It’s just a really big change, you know?”

“I know,” she says. “It’s so different. I think the only reason that I’m enjoying it so much is that it still hasn’t sunk in that this is going to be the rest of my life. I can’t really return to my hive under the sea.”

Waiters arrive with your food, which they silently set in front of you before retreating. Fef’s bowl is nestled in a tray of ice. Your tuna is just barely seared on the surface, leaving it a rich, deep pink on the inside.

“Have you heard from the others?” you ask.

She smiles. “I met Kanaya for the first time yesterday. She’s going to be ambassador for the Mother Grub, of course. She has more influence with the imperial drones than I do. She’s so calm and cool, just like she was online. Have you met anyone yet?”

“No,” you say. “I’ve talked with, uh, Equius, though.”

“Let me guess,” she says flatly. “You talked to him about me and Sollux.”

“I _clarified_ a few points a _etiquette_ with him,” you say.

She stirs her soup with a spoon. “I guess it’s too much to ask to have you stop discussing my private life with other people.”

“You’re the Heiress,” you say. “Nothing about your life is private.”

She sighs. “I’m declaring this topic off limits. No more discussion of my project, of Sollux, or of any quadrants whatsoever. Okay?”

“Fine,” you say.

“Good.” She grins at you. “Now tell me more about this military academy.”

  


* * *

  


  
You do end up having a decent conversation with her, and it’s almost like old times again. But as you walk back to the palace in the growing light of early morning, you see her get a message that makes her smile and you just know it’s Sollux, who must be waiting for her back in her quarters.

You part ways at the palace. A lot of the sea dwellers have quarters above the waterline to allow their land dweller servants to access them. Your quarters are on the west side of the palace with the rest of the minor nobility.

You room has been prepared for the morning. The recuperacoon is waiting for you. The sopor slime inside is a translucent crystal green and it calls to you, but you’re not that tired yet. The pile of clothes that you had left on the floor after trying to find something nice to wear to dinner tonight has been neatly packed away again. Even the book that you were reading earlier has been bookmarked thoughtfully.

You pull out your husktop and sit at your desk.

\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] began trolliing carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

CA: kar are you there  
CA: i need your advvice  
CA: i think i messed up again  
CA: come on kar answwer me  
CG: YOU KNOW WHAT I NEED RIGHT NOW?  
CG: SOME BULGESUCKER TROLLING ME WHILE I’M TRYING TO FIND SHELTER FOR THE DAY.  
CG: THE MAP SAYS IT’S HERE BUT IT’S NOT.  
CA: ok so does that mean you cant talk right noww  
CG: GIVE ME TEN FUCKING MINUTES.

You give him ten fucking minutes. You spend the time getting ready for the recuperacoon. You pull off your rings, lining them up on the desk. You think about pulling out your study materials for the military academy entrance exam, but trying to figure out what mistakes you may have made on the exam will just stress you out.

CG: OK.  
CG: WE'RE ALIVE.  
CG: IT WAS CLOSE BUT WE MADE IT.  
CG: THANK GOD THAT TAVROS CAN COMMUNE WITH MUSCLEBEASTS BECAUSE BASICALLY YOU WOULD BE TALKING TO MUSCLEBEAST SHIT RIGHT NOW.  
CG: OR AT LEAST YOU WOULD IN SIX TO EIGHT HOURS DEPENDING ON THEIR DIGESTIVE CYCLE.  
CG: NOW WHAT WAS THIS ABOUT?  
CA: i talked wwith fef  
CG: WE DISCUSSED THIS.  
CG: YOU WERE GOING TO TRY TO AVOID BEING A PATHETIC FROND PULLER, REMEMBER?  
CA: yeah i knoww  
CA: and mostly i think it wwas okay  
CA: i mean i didnt really upset her more than once or twwice  
CA: and i didnt evven say the wword pissblood  
CA: but she doesnt wwant me to givve her any advvice anymore  
CA: basically she thinks im just sabotagin her out a jealousy  
CG: LOOK.  
CG: WHAT IS YOUR GOAL HERE?  
CG: DO YOU WANT HER TO STOP WITH HER PLANS FOR HER OWN SAFETY?  
CG: OR DO YOU WANT HER TO BE YOUR MOIRAIL AGAIN?  
CA: both  
CG: WELL YOU CAN'T HAVE BOTH.  
CG: IF YOU WANT A RELATIONSHIP WITH HER, THEN SHE’S GOING TO SEE YOUR CONCERNS AS JEALOUSY.  
CG: SO YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE ONE OR THE OTHER.  
CA: she says she wwants me to find another moirail  
CG: SHE'S NOT WRONG.  
CG: THAT MIGHT BE THE BEST THING YOU COULD DO.  
CA: kar  
CG: I HAVE A MOIRAIL.  
CG: LOOK, I’M NOT SHOOTING YOU DOWN.  
CG: IF I DIDN’T HAVE ONE, I’D CONSIDER IT.  
CG: BUT I HAVE GAMZEE.  
CA: ok it wwas just an idea  
CA: maybe ill talk to vvris  
CG: SPIDERBITCH? HAHAHA  
CG: BAD IDEA.  
CG: YOU WANT SOMEONE WHO BALANCES OUT YOUR BAD TRAITS, NOT SOMEONE WHO’S EVEN MORE MEGALOMANIACAL THAN YOU.  
CG: ESPECIALLY NOT SOMEONE WHO YOU ONCE HAD BLACK FEELINGS FOR.  
CA: ok wwell wwho do you suggest  
CG: I DON'T KNOW.  
CG: I'LL HAVE TO THINK ABOUT IT.  
CG: YOU’RE IN THE IMPERIAL CITY. HAVEN’T YOU MET ANYONE ELSE YET?  
CA: not really  
CG: THERE YOU GO.  
CG: THAT'S YOUR MISSION.  
CG: MEET SOMEONE NEW.  
CA: im not really good at that  
CG: NO ONE IS.  
CA: wwhen are you gonna get here  
CG: WE’RE GOING A LOT FASTER THAN WE WERE AT THE START.  
CG: I THINK WE MIGHT ONLY HAVE TEN DAYS LEFT.  
CG: IF WE’RE LUCKY, WE CAN CATCH A TRAIN AND GET THERE EVEN FASTER.  
CG: BUT THE WORST PART OF THE TRIP IS YET TO COME.  
CG: THE CLOSER WE GET TO THE COAST, THE MORE UNDEAD ARE OUT IN THE DAY.  
CA: do you think maybe wwhen you get here  
CA: wwe could meet in person or somethin  
CA: i mean i dont knoww if thats possible for obvvious reasons  
CA: i just thought it might be somethin wwe could do  
CG: IF YOU THINK YOU COULD BEAR THE COMPANY OF A LAND DWELLER.  
CA: i havve land dwweller servvants  
CG: HA HA, ASSHOLE.  
CA: no i just mean  
CA: you wwont be the first land dwweller ivve met  
CG: WHAT COLOR IS YOUR SERVANT’S BLOOD?  
CA: blue  
CA: but like a loww blue  
CA: like a teal  
CG: TEAL? WELL FUCK.  
CG: YOU ARE A FUCKING PHILANTHROPIST, LETTING SOMEONE THAT LOW SERVE YOU.  
CG: I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU ANYMORE.  
CA: wwhat colors your blood  
CG: YOU ASK THAT QUESTION AS IF YOU THINK THIS TIME I'M ACTUALLY GOING TO ANSWER IT.  
CA: maybe if i catch you off guard  
CG: I'M CURIOUS, THOUGH.  
CG: IF I TOLD YOU I WAS SOMETHING LIKE, I DON'T KNOW, RED.  
CG: LIKE REALLY RED.  
CG: KIND OF LIKE ARADIA EXCEPT WORSE.  
CG: WOULD YOU STOP TALKING TO ME?  
CA: are you  
CG: THAT DOESN’T ANSWER MY QUESTION.  
CG: AND THE FACT THAT YOU ASKED THAT MEANS YOU'RE MISSING THE POINT.  
CA: no i get the point  
CA: an my answwer is that i dont knoww  
CG: REALLY? HOW LONG HAVE WE BEEN FRIENDS?  
CG: THREE SWEEPS? FOUR?  
CG: AND YOU DON'T KNOW WHETHER YOU COULD CONTINUE TO TALK TO ME IF I HAD RED BLOOD?  
CA: look  
CA: im talkin to you noww  
CA: and i guess you probably havve to havve pretty loww blood to run awway from the imperial drones  
CA: i mean if you wwere a green you wwouldnt havve anyfin to fear  
CA: if you wwere a pissblood  
CA: i mean yelloww blood  
CA: you might havve a reason to run awway  
CA: so i guess you havve to be in that range  
CA: wwhich is really loww  
CA: im still talkin to you right noww evven though i knoww that  
CA: but the thing is that its really hard  
CA: you probably dont understand howw hard it is  
CA: i mean im a sea dwweller  
CA: and there are expectations  
CG: FUCK THE EXPECTATIONS.  
CA: you can say that, since youre not here  
CG: I'M NOT THERE BECAUSE I'M CURRENTLY FUCKING THE EXPECTATIONS.  
CA: right wwell  
CA: i am here  
CA: and i havve to livve here  
CA: and i havve to havve credibility if i expect to become a commander a the fleet  
CG: YOU JUST SAID YOU WANTED TO MEET IN PERSON.  
CA: i do  
CA: but i think itll be hard  
CA: i might havve to go in disguise or somefin  
CG: YOU WORK ON THAT. I’LL WORK ON GETTING THERE.  
CG: OKAY, I’M TIRED.  
CG: IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY.  
CG: I’LL TALK TO YOU LATER  
CA: bye kar  
CG: BYE.

\-- carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] cea2ed trolliing caliigula2Aquariium [CA] \--

You should go to sleep. You start to close your husktop, but then you notice the new names on your chumproll. You haven’t paid much attention to them since they showed up, although you think you may have accidentally trolled one of them when everything was going weird with TrolliianExiile.

One of them seems to be really high blooded purple. They’re nearly your rank. Karkat told you to meet new people. Might as well start with the top.

\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] began trolliing tentacleTherapii2t [TT] \--

CA: hello  
CA: you wwere on my chumproll for some reason  
CA: are you there  
CA: youre probably asleep  
CA: nevver mind

\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] cea2ed trolliing tentacleTherapii2t [TT] \--


	10. Chapter 10

**Pesterlog excerpt:**

\-- gallow2Caliibrator [GC] began trolliing turntechGodhead [TG] \--

GC: WH3N3V3R YOU COM3 ONL1N3 1 G3T TH3 MOST WOND3RFUL WH1FF OF D3L1C1OUS C4NDY R3D.  
GC: YOU SHOULD B3 ONL1N3 4LL TH3 T1M3  
TG: nah  
TG: i got other stuff to do  
TG: bitches and whatnot  
GC: YOU L13  
GC: 1 C4N SM3LL 1T 1N YOUR T3XT  
GC: TH3R3 4R3 NO B1TCH3S  
TG: im covered in bitches  
TG: you cant even see me right now  
TG: its like im the quarterback and im covered in a pile of sweaty man bodies of the opposing team in whatever sport quarterbacks usually play  
TG: only instead of sweaty man bodies its bitches  
GC: TH4T 1S NOT 4 D3L1C1OUS 1M4G3 >:[  
TG: theres room in the pile for you  
TG: the competitions rough though  
TG: anyway  
GC: Y3S 4NYW4Y  
GC: 1 W4NT3D TO T3LL YOU TH4T 1 4M NOW 4PPR3NT1C3D TO TH3 B3ST L3G1SL4C3R4TOR 1N TH3 C1TY  
TG: is that a good thing  
GC: 1T 1S 1ND33D >:]  
GC: TROLLS OF MY H3MOST4TUS USU4LLY DONT G3T TH1S K1ND OF POS1T1ON  
TG: hemostatus  
GC: SP34K1NG OF WH1CH  
GC: YOU AVO1D3D TH3 QU3ST1ON L4ST T1ME  
GC: 4ND SOM3TH1NG 4 FR13ND SUGG3ST3D H4S 1NTR1GU3D M3  
GC: 1S YOUR BLOOD R333334LY TH4T COLOR?  
TG: oh god this again  
TG: what is your obsession  
TG: everyone wants to know if my blood is the same color as my text  
TG: is yours?  
GC: OF COURS3 1T 1S  
TG: so in your troll fantasy world this is something everyone does  
TG: why do all of you act surprised when normal people dont do that  
GC: SO YOUR BLOOD 1S NOT R3D  
TG: no look all im saying is that the fact that my blood and my text are the same color is just a coincidence because i dont have anything to do with your weird rp shit  
TG: i dont want to yiff with you or whatever  
GC: Y1FF?  
TG: uh  
TG: never mind  
GC: HMMM  
GC: K4RK4T W4S R1GHT  
GC: NOW 1 F4C3 MY F1RST D1L3MM4 4S 4PPR3NT1C3 L3G1SL4C3R4TOR  
TG: are you gonna legislacerate me for having red blood  
TG: will it hurt  
GC: DONT B3 S1LLY  
GC: OF COURS3 1T W1LL  
GC: BUT 1 W1LL NOT DO TH4T TO YOU  
GC: 1 DONT 3V3N KNOW WH3R3 YOU 4R3!  
GC: 1T 1S V3RY L1K3LY TH4T YOU F4LL OUTS1D3 MY JUR1SD1CT1ON  
TG: im so relieved  
TG: i was really worried there  
TG: even my bitches started getting nervous  
TG: i was about to speed dial my lawyerevenant  
TG: get myself a legal advocaterrorist  
GC: YOU 4R3 M4K1NG FUN OF MY C4R33R >:[  
TG: nah man  
TG: its all good  
GC: DO YOU H4V3 PL4NS FOR YOUR FUTUR3?  
TG: yeah  
TG: think ill probably go to college for a few years  
TG: flunk out of all my classes halfway through my junior year and drop out  
TG: probably spend the rest of my years djing at clubs and leering at the teen girls until finally they ask me not to come back  
TG: then maybe bemoan the mistakes of my youth and drink myself to death  
TG: but its not set in stone  
GC: YOUR 1NS1NC3R1TY IS L1K3 4 FRU1TY R3D COCKT41L ON MY TONGU3  
TG: welp  
TG: you caught me  
GC: WH4T W1LL YOU DO 1N TH3 FL33T?  
TG: which fleet is this now  
TG: wait no i got this  
TG: the imperial fleet  
GC: Y3S  
TG: tell me my options  
GC: TH3R3 4R3 TOO M4NY TO L1ST  
GC: 4LTHOUGH 4LL OF TH3M 4R3 CLOS3D TO SOM3ON3 OF YOUR MUT4NT H3MOST4TUS  
TG: so no pilotenderizer for me  
TG: wont get to be the captainecrophile of the ship  
GC: YOU M1GHT B3 4BL3 TO L1V3 4S 4 SL4V3 B3FOR3 TH3Y CULL YOU  
TG: all my dreams of being an astronavigatewaydrug  
TG: ruined  
GC: 1 L1K3 YOU  
GC: YOUR L4CK OF CONC3RN OV3R YOUR H3MOST4TUS 1S R3FR3SH1NG  
GC: 1F ONLY MY OTH3R FR13NDS COULD B3 MOR3 L1K3 YOU  
TG: story of my life

  


* * *

  


**Karkat**

You have been on the run for nine days now. It sort of feels like you’ve been on the run for your entire life.

Tavros is getting better. He’s still sore most of the time, and he’s slow over uneven terrain, but you can travel for most of the night now, as long as you take breaks every once in a while. Plus he can talk to the wildlife, which is so fucking useful that you can’t believe you ever once thought that you could get through this trip without him.

Today is Twelfth Perigee’s Eve, which means tomorrow is officially the first dim season. The sun has been getting a little higher every day. A week ago, this meant that the horizon got a little light at noon, but you could mostly stay outside. By now, the sun actually fully emerges over the horizon for an hour or so before sinking out of sight. In two weeks, the sunlight hours will be just as long as the moonlight hours, and by the first light season, the sun won’t set for weeks.

You have to be in the Imperial City by then, or else you’ll have to find some sort of long-term shelter with food. Right now, your food stores are running abysmally low. You have two days’ worth left.

“I don’t care how hungry I am,” Tavros says. He’s walking next to you. He uses a walking stick for support, poking through the leaves to make sure of his footing before he steps. “I am not going to use my mind control to call animals in so you can eat them.”

“We will _starve_ ,” you reply.

“Mind control isn’t fair.”

“You don’t have a problem with making them carry you.”

“I ask their permission first,” Tavros says.

“Well then ask their permission!” you exclaim. “There’s probably some suicidal animal out there who wants us to eat it.”

“If you’re hungry, hunt.”

“I will,” you say, although you’ve never actually had to hunt your own dinner before. That’s what your lusus was for. “I just figured this would be easier.”

“We’ll find food somewhere,” Tavros says. There’s a pause, and then he adds, “We don’t want to risk, uh, stunting your growth.”

“Fuck you.” You whack him on the shoulder and he laughs.

You fall silent, listening to the sounds of the forest. You’re farther north than you’ve ever been in your life. You passed through the lakes region a few days ago. You’ve been skirting along the edge of civilization, but in a few more days it will be unavoidable. Even now you have to take occasionally wide detours to avoid towns. There’s a moderately sized town just half a mile to your west.

“What did you do last Twelfth?” you ask him.

“Uh…” He considers this. “I think I just stayed in with Tinkerbull. We played games.”

The lusus in question is flitting about through the trees ahead of you, keeping watch for things that might want to eat you.

“What about you?” he asks you.

You remember knowing that it was going to be your last Twelfth. At least, your last Twelfth pre-Imperial drones. You had wanted the day to be extra special, but it had just been a regular day.

“I don’t even remember,” you say.

“Happy Twelfth,” Tavros says.

“Yeah, you too.” You wonder where your lusus is. Did he survive? Was he culled? Is he looking for you? Fuck, it might have been better if you had culled him yourself just so you could _know._

Tavros seems to know that you’re getting upset because he rests a hand on your shoulder briefly and says, “At least we’ll always remember what we were doing _this_ sweep.”

“Fond memories,” you mutter. “My Twelfth gift to myself is going to be an extra nightmare or two.”

Your nightmares have gotten worse in the last week. There was a night a week ago when you woke up in the middle of the day and you had all these memories in your head all jumbled around, like you were two different people at the same time. There had been a noise that woke you, maybe, although once you were awake you didn’t remember what it was. And since that time, you’ve had the strangest dreams, and the feeling that you’ve forgotten something important.

You glance up at the sky, or what you can see of it through the trees. The crack is there, a thin black ribbon that threads its way between the two moons. It’s been there for two sweeps, you know, although it feels oddly new.

Tinkerbull swoops back to you and lands in the leaves next to Tavros, all of his legs stiff and trembling, looking agitated. Tavros stops. You do too. After all this time, you know what this means.

“Something up ahead,” Tavros says. He’s already unfocused, his mind ahead of you. You equip your sickle just in case.

“Let’s hope it’s something we can ride,” you say.

You hear footsteps through the leaves up ahead. Whatever it is, it sounds heavy.

“It’s not an animal,” whispers Tavros. He takes a step back and freezes when the leaves crunch loudly under his feet.

You realize that you’ve been kind of loud. You’ve gotten a little lax in your travels, since you don’t have much to fear from most of the animals living in the woods. Maybe this has been a mistake.

There is suddenly more crunching to your left. Two creatures? Not animals. Other trolls? Adults? Wait, shit, you’re an adult now, aren’t you? Technically, anyway.

A shape moves between the trees ahead of you. You can’t see what it is, but it’s big—and dark—and has six horns—

It’s a fucking imperial drone.

You’re screwed.

“Run,” hisses Tavros.

You hesitate, glancing at Tavros’s walking stick. All jokes aside, you know you can outrun him, and so can the drones. Maybe there was a point where you once thought that would be a good idea, but seriously, fuck Past Karkat. That guy’s a douchebag.

“Meet me at the next shelter,” you say, and you book it.

_Toward_ the drones.

You hear Tavros swear behind you, and you hear the whir of wings as Tinkerbull takes to the air. “Tink, no!” Tavros calls desperately, and you realize that Tinkerbull has had the same idea as you.

You aim for the gap between the two drones. Obviously you can’t fight them off, but they’re big and they must have some trouble making it through the trees. If you can present an appealing target, maybe Tavros will have a chance to run.

You crash through the leaves, ducking a low hanging branch. Whip-like branches claw at your clothes as you run. You hear noise on both sides of you as the drones start their pursuit.

Fuck, you’ve been so stupid. You knew that the drones have been making their way through the grublands as they continue their classification. Soon they’ll reach the end of the grublands and return to the mother grub, but that won’t be for a few more days. You should have realized that they would probably be sweeping the forests around here. Just because your trip hasn’t been horrendous so far doesn’t mean that it can’t suddenly take a turn for the worse. With your luck, that’s practically inevitable.

The ground here is soggy. You trip over a root and slam to your knees in the mud, then struggle back up and keep running. You think maybe you’re getting away from them? Possibly? And then suddenly there are heavy footsteps _right the fuck next to you_ and you realize belatedly that these drones are _really fucking fast._

Holy shit this was a bad idea.

The air is tearing through your lungs. You are sprinting as fast as you can and it’s not fast enough. A massive hand grabs your arm and yanks you back, spinning you around.

Imperial drones are even bigger when you’re this close and you have to crane your neck back to see into its face. Its other massive arm comes up, fingers spread, and you can see the slit in its carapace from which the culling fork will emerge. Its hand reaches out to clasp your forehead.

You twist hysterically away, ducking your head and letting your knees collapse. The culling fork punches out, raking a gouge across the top of your head and clipping the edge of your horn.

Pain lances through your skull and the inside of your head rings like a gong. You scream, a short bark of pain that you can’t even hear because all of your senses are spinning.

The imperial drone yanks you up—or down—which way is up again? Through the pain you realize that the drone has retracted the culling fork and is going to try again. Your sickle is still in your hand through some miracle. You swing it.

The blade glances off the drone’s exoskeleton, scrapes down its flank and then lodges in a gap between two overlapping layers of chitin. You twist and the sickle snaps, but the drone flings you to the ground so hard that you bounce.

You roll to your hands and knees too quickly and nearly fall over again but catch yourself against a tree. There is black blood splattering the leaves, sheeting down the drone’s exoskeleton. The drone yanks out the broken sickle and tosses the pieces away.

You drag yourself to your feet and start to run again. Your senses are slowly clearing. It’s enough to keep yourself upright, at least.

And this is the point where you realize there is only one drone following you. The other one didn’t take the bait.

You don’t really have any time to feel horror at that revelation because the drone has caught up with you again. You change direction, darting to the left instead. The move shakes blood from your hair and it starts running down your forehead and into your eyes. You wipe it away, although by this point it doesn’t help. You can feel it running down your neck and jaw. You’re basically covered in a big red _cull me_ sign.

The imperial drone grabs your horn but—ha!—you don’t have nearly enough of a horn to give him a good grip, and you slide free. You stumble, catch your balance, and start sprinting again.

You’re at the crest of a hill. The ground begins to slope sharply downward, and you pick up speed as you run. The ground is soft and crumbly under your feet. You’re nearly flying.

A hand closes around the collar of your shirt and yanks you back. You let yourself go limp again, even though it yanks your shirt up around your throat, and this time you twist around and grab both of the drone’s knees in a tight hug.

You’ve both been traveling pretty fast, and you’re on a hill. The drone’s next convulsive step is pulled up short by your desperate grip, and its center of balance tips.

You are the fulcrum to the spectacular pivot that the drone makes, and then it’s crashing to the ground and sliding, nearly taking you with it. You let go of the drone, sliding in the leaves for a short distance before you can stop yourself. The drone keeps going, rolling down the hill.

You grab a sapling and pull yourself to your feet. You begin to run—or, by this point, stagger—perpendicular to the slope. You’re out of breath and your head is throbbing and the imperial drone has reached the bottom of the hill and is getting to its feet.

You can’t outrun it. You know this. If you keep running, it will catch you. And you can’t kill it, either. Not without a weapon.

You shove a low hanging branch aside and begin to cast about desperately for a place to hide. The branches of an evergreen are keeping you momentarily from the view of the drone, and this is your only chance. The ground here is rocky, and if you’re lucky, you’ll find a cave or something. But you can’t see anything. You can hear the drone running up the hill.

At the last second, you see a small pit where a tree has been partially uprooted and is leaning against its neighbors. You fling yourself at it, scrambling down between the roots. You sweep an armful of dead leaves over yourself and go limp.

You try to breathe shallowly as you listen for the drone approach. It’s hard to keep from gasping for air since you’re still so out of breath. You clamp a hand over your mouth and force yourself to breathe slowly through your nose, although your lungs scream at you.

The imperial drone is coming closer, moving at a steady lope. You hear it as it brushes aside the same branch that you did.

It comes forward a few more feet and then stops. You can’t see it and don’t dare to turn your head. You wonder if you left obvious marks in the leaves when you climbed under the tree. Shit, your blood. You’d forgotten that you were bleeding everywhere. Did you leave a trail?

The drone takes two steps forward, then stops again. It knows that you’re hiding. How could it not? You couldn’t possibly have outrun it.

Your palmhusk vibrates and you flinch. You freeze, staying perfectly still, but you don’t think that the drone heard it. At least, the drone hasn’t moved. Fuck, you hope that’s Tavros. Although if it is, you’re going to punch him in the face when you see him again for trolling you at such an inopportune time.

The drone moves again, and this time it takes three steps toward you. It is definitely coming in your direction. Sweat trickles down your side.

Your palmhusk vibrates again. Fuck whoever that is. You’ll murder them if you make it out of this. You don’t flinch this time, though.

The drone takes another step and stops, and you know that it’s standing right next to the tree you’re under. You’re not breathing at all anymore. At some point you stopped and now your lungs are straining, but you can’t make yourself move at all.

Then the drone moves again, and this time it’s moving around the tree to the other side. Its footsteps move away from you.

You listen for a long minute while its footsteps get farther away, until finally you let yourself take a breath. It’s shaky. You slowly try to relax each of your muscles. You’re not getting out from under this tree until you’re certain the drone is far away.

You pull the palmhusk from your sylladex and check it.

\-- gho2tyTriick2ter [GT] began trolliing carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

GT: i don’t remember blocking you!  
GT: sorry about that

You ignore him. Instead you open another chat window.

\-- carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] began trolliing adiio2Toreador [AT] \--

CG: TELL ME YOU MADE IT.

Of course you realize that you could be doing to Tavros exactly what this blue douchebag was doing to you, but you have to know whether he’s alive.

There is a long pause. You close your eyes and hope desperately that everything is okay.

AT: yES,  
AT: i'M HERE,  
AT: aT THE CAVE, i MEAN,  
AT: wHERE ARE YOU?

Thank god. You nearly kiss your palmhusk.

CG: I'M NOT SURE WHERE I AM.  
CG: HIDING.  
CG: THE DRONE IS HERE SOMEWHERE.  
AT: hAVE YOU SEEN tINKERBULL?  
CG: NO.  
AT: oH,

Another pause. Tinkerbull must have gone after the second drone to lead it away from Tavros.

There is a noise about thirty feet away from you. You realize suddenly that the drone has stopped and is waiting. It’s listening for you to move. You hastily turn off alerts on your palmhusk.

CG: I ALWAYS KNEW MY DEATH WAS GOING TO BE AS HUMILIATING AS POSSIBLE.  
CG: MY LIFE HAS ALWAYS BEEN LEADING UP TO THIS POINT.  
CG: OR DOWN TO IT, I GUESS.  
CG: ONE LAST HUMILIATING FUCKUP.  
CG: GETTING CULLED BY IMPERIAL DRONES IN MY OWN HIVE JUST DIDN'T HAVE THAT HORRIFICALLY MORTIFYING ASPECT TO IT THAT MY DEATH REQUIRES.  
CG: NO, I'M MEANT FOR WORSE THINGS.  
CG: I ALWAYS KNEW THAT MY DEATH WAS GOING TO REQUIRE ME TO BE HIDING IN SOME BUSHES, COVERED IN BLOOD AND MUD AND LEAVES, WITH MY FINGERS UP MY NOOK.  
CG: NOTHING LESS THAN THE ABSOLUTE HUMILIATING BEST.  
AT: uHHHH,  
AT: kARKAT,,,,  
CG: IT WAS A FUCKING EXAGGERATION.  
CG: IT'S WHAT I DO.  
CG: EXAGGERATE.  
CG: I DO NOT HAVE ANY FINGERS UP ANY ORIFICE.  
AT: oKAY,  
AT: jUST, mAKING SURE,  
CG: THANKS FOR THAT.  
CG: I'M SO GLAD YOU ACTUALLY THOUGHT I WAS SITTING OVER HERE DOING THAT.

You listen for the drone. It is silent.

AT: tHE SUN WILL BE UP SOON,  
AT: iT'S ALMOST NOON,  
CG: I’LL JUST STAY HERE.  
CG: THE DRONE HAS TO LEAVE BEFORE THE SUN RISES.  
CG: RIGHT?  
AT: i'M NOT SURE,  
AT: i DON'T KNOW IF THEY'RE BOTHERED BY THE SUN,

Tavros is right—it is nearly time for sunrise. The sky has been getting brighter. You should probably be okay in this burrow while it’s up. It just means you won’t be able to move for a couple of hours. And of course as soon as you have that thought, you start to get an itch on your leg.

AT: yOU'RE COVERED IN BLOOD?  
CG: THAT WAS A SLOW REACTION.  
AT: i WAS TRYING NOT TO THINK OF YOU WITH YOUR FINGERS UP YOUR NOOK,  
CG: THANKS FOR THAT ONCE AGAIN.  
AT: yOU BROUGHT IT UP,  
CG: WOW, LOOK, BACK TO THE ORIGINAL QUESTION:  
CG: I NEARLY GOT A CULLING FORK THROUGH THE THINK PAN.  
CG: LUCKILY THERE ISN'T MUCH IN THERE.  
AT: aRE YOU OKAY?  
CG: BETTER THAN I WOULD BE IF IT HADN’T MISSED.

Your head is throbbing. You close your eyes. Blood has dried on your face. It’s itchy and uncomfortable. You want to wash it off before anyone sees it. Your need to hide your blood color has become almost a compulsion over the sweeps, which is a good thing. It means you don’t usually make mistakes with keeping it a secret.

GT: are you still a troll?

You ignore him again.

AT: sO, uM, tHANKS,  
AT: fOR DISTRACTING THE DRONES,  
AT: iT WAS NICE OF YOU,  
CG: YOU’RE WELCOME.  
AT: i HOPE tINKERBULL IS OKAY,

You don’t know how to respond to that. He’s probably not okay. He was just a tiny fairy bull and he went after an imperial drone all on his own.

CG: YEAH.  
AT: iT'S NOON,  
AT: hAPPY nEW sWEEP,  
CG: HAPPY NEW SWEEP.

The sun breaches the horizon. You can feel it even though your eyes are closed. It’s like a distant, whining buzz in your head.

CG: ARE YOU STILL A HUMAN?  
GT: oh hi!  
GT: i didn't know if you were angry with me.  
GT: i didn't mean to block you!  
CG: IT WAS YOUR FRIEND.  
CG: TURNTECHGODHEAD.  
GT: oh.  
GT: i don't know why he did that.  
GT: and yes, i'm still a human!  
GT: how are you?  
GT: hello?  
GT: are you still there?  
CG: I'M HERE.  
CG: I'M OKAY.  
GT: is something wrong?  
CG: HAPPY NEW SWEEP.  
GT: what's a sweep?  
CG: ...  
CG: A UNIT OF TIME.  
GT: like... a year?  
CG: I DON'T KNOW.  
GT: like a day?  
CG: A SWEEP IS 788 DAYS.  
GT: whoa. how many hours in a day?  
CG: 24.  
GT: so that's the same.  
GT: hmm... a sweep is like 2.16 years.  
GT: so when you said you were 8, you meant you were really 17!  
GT: we're almost the same age.  
CG: I GUESS.  
GT: you sound tired.  
CG: IT’S BEEN A LONG NIGHT.  
GT: you're a lot less talkative when you're tired!  
GT: maybe you should get some sleep.  
CG: YEAH.  
CG: BYE JOHN.  
GT: bye karkat!

\-- carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] cea2ed trolliing  gho2tyTriick2ter [GT] \--

\-- carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] began trolliing gho2tyTriick2ter [GT] \--

CG: HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME.  
GT: i  
GT: i don't know?  
GT: it just sounded right, i guess?  
GT: is that your name?  
GT: hello?

\-- carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] cea2ed trolliing gho2tyTriick2ter [GT] \--


	11. Chapter 11

**Pesterlog excerpt:**

\-- tentacleTherapii2t [TT] began trolliing caliigula2Aquariium [CA] \--

TT: I wouldn’t normally respond to messages from someone in my Trollslum, especially one who showed up there through no actions of my own.  
TT: However, my friends have reported interesting conversations with others of your kind and I admit that I am intrigued.  
TT: Though I’ll warn you that my cursor is hovering over the block button.  
CA: ok wwell  
CA: this convversation isnt gettin off to a great start  
TT: I accede to your point.  
TT: My actions are not conducive to a friendly repartee.  
TT: If it makes you feel better, you are free to block me as well, should my part of the conversation not reach your exacting specifications.  
TT: Now please, tell me why you’ve contacted me.  
TT: And make it good.  
CA: ok  
CA: just  
CA: dont block me yet  
CA: i just wwanted to say that maybe wwe could havve some sort a mutually beneficial arrangement  
TT: An arrangement.  
CA: yeah an arrangement  
CA: i mean im neww here and im lookin for someone who knowws their wway around the intrigue  
CA: and you could stand to make an alliance wwith someone a step up on the spectrum like me  
TT: “Here”?  
TT: Are we talking about the vicious political intrigues of Pesterchum?  
CA: wwait  
CA: i thought you wwere in the city  
TT: Which city? I happen to live far away from many cities.  
CA: youre not evven an adult are you  
TT: I reached the age of majority in December.  
CA: then howw do you not knoww wwhich city im talkin about  
CA: you should be in the palace  
CA: you look pretty fuckin purple to me  
TT: My interest in these non sequiturs is waning.  
TT: The block button beckons.  
CA: are you evven a sea dwweller  
TT: Hmm.  
TT: I will admit that this question fascinates me for the insight it gives me into your fantasy world.  
TT: My conversations with John, Dave and Jade have given me enough background to know that you all think yourselves to be “trolls” living on some other planet.  
TT: I say ‘think’, but honestly it’s hard to say whether you’re massively invested in this roleplaying scenario or whether this is some elaborate prank.  
CA: im not a roleplayer ok my flarpin days are long past  
CA: that wwas wwiggler stuff  
TT: “Wiggler” in place of “kid.” Talk of a “spectrum” with the implication that it relates to class or political power or both, with purple being apparently high enough on the scale to suggest residence in a palace. Given the association of purple being the color of royalty, that is not surprising. The mention of “sea dwellers”, which again seems connected to this color spectrum and thus royalty.  
TT: In addition, you mentioned that someone over the age of majority should be living in your unnamed city where presumably the palace is located. The sociological implications of that statement are fascinating.  
CA: im not sure wwhats goin on here  
TT: No, that’s fair. Acknowledging the framework of your roleplaying universe would be to break character.  
TT: Here I face a dilemma, however. If we are to continue conversing in the future, a situation of which I remain skeptical, I need to decide whether to accept your “reality” as fact or refute it. If you are in fact delusional, refuting the reality of your world would only serve to more firmly convince you of its truth. It is only in agreeing with your delusions that I could expect to persuade you of their falsehood.  
TT: But if, instead of delusional, you are in fact merely roleplaying or even trolling me, (and I use trolling here to mean “attempting to provoke a hostile reaction for your own amusement”), then purporting to accept the reality of your situation would merely encourage you.  
TT: Hence the dilemma.  
CA: wwell  
CA: im not gonna try and pretend to knoww wwhy you dont seem to knoww the basic glubbin facts a life  
CA: someone is crazy here and its not me  
CA: but if i wwere gonna make a choice for you here id go wwith accepting my reality as truth because thatll make these convversations a hell of a lot easier on me  
TT: Heaven forbid this conversation should be difficult for you.  
CA: also you can dispense wwith the condescension here if its all the same to you  
TT: I don’t think I can make that a part of the deal.  
CA: if anyone should be condescending its me  
TT: Given your apparently “higher” status on a linear color spectrum, yes?  
CA: yeah  
TT: Best of luck to you in that endeavor.  
CA: bite me pinktext

  


* * *

  


**Sollux**

It’s funny how you could go your whole life without really paying much attention to the hemospectrum, when it turns out that it’s extremely fucking important on a personal level. For instance, you’re a slave now.

Being the personal slave of the Heiress, incidentally, is not as bad as it could be, although a sight worse than you had originally pictured. If you’re being honest, you had sort of thought that your life now would be a lot like your life was back in your own hive. You didn’t leave the hive much back then, because you had your computers—and what else is there, really?

But you forgot that it wouldn’t just be you and Feferi here. She may be the Heiress, but she doesn’t have total control over every aspect of your life, and there are other people here. Other slaves, other servants. Other royalty.

The palace has a constant tang of saltwater in the air. There are servants here whose sole job is to keep mopping up the floors after seadwelling royalty emerge from below. Seagrass and barnacles grow in the stairwells. Not that you ever go out into the main rooms of the palace. Your blood is too dirty for that.

You use the servant’s stairs to ascend to Feferi’s block. You’re carrying a container of sopor slime to refresh her recuperacoon. It’s your daily chore and it’s not that bad, since you share her recuperacoon so it benefits you just as much. The people around here would shit themselves if they knew she let you share her recuperacoon—hemostatus trumps quadrant here, always—but that’s okay. You don’t plan on telling them because you’re not suicidal. At least, not on your good days.

A greenblood servant comes out of the door at the top of the stairwell, carrying a load of laundry. Her eyes skim over you like you’re not even there, although when she passes you, her shoulder deliberately bumps yours. You manage to keep your grip on the sopor slime, since you were expecting that. You both continue on your way.

The thing is that trolls of your hemostatus are never given jobs this prestigious. Yellowbloods like you are psychically powerful, so you’re used as batteries, plugged into whatever machines the highbloods need you for. When your kind aren’t doing that, you’re working as slave labor in factories, or doing worse things. And you’re not even the lowest class. Tavros and Aradia are worse off than you.

You’ve had the thought once or twice in the past week that maybe you should thank Vriska for making you murder Aradia all those sweeps ago, even if that was the worst day of your entire life. At least now that she’s dead, she doesn’t have to bother with hemostatus. Now she has synthetic blue blood running in her robot veins.

You shoulder open the door at the top of the stairs and step out into the hallway. There are a few servants here, moving about. Someone hisses “pissblood” as you pass, but you ignore them. You learned your lesson about fighting in the first few days. As a yellowblood, if you end a fight with someone of a higher hemostatus, you can gain respect, but if you start one, you’ll be culled. Even if you could sweep the floor with every one of these assholes with your telekinesis.

You reach the door leading into Feferi’s private blocks. You let yourself inside and breathe a sigh of relief when you close the door.

You ascend the private staircase to her respiteblock. She’s not in her quarters yet, which is fine. You empty the container of sopor slime into her recuperacoon and then head to Fef’s desk, where her husktop is sitting.

You don’t have your own husktop anymore—and it’s a damn shame, but there’s nothing you can do about that. It doesn’t matter that much, though. You’ve partitioned Fef’s husktop so you have your own account, and you’ve been cultivating your apiarian networks all over again. The plan is that once it’s set up, you’ll have access to the Imperial databases and you’ll be able to manipulate the records enough to set up identities for Karkat and Tavros, and maybe even yourself if it comes to that. Since Karkat and Tavros avoided being classified by the imperial drones they managed to escape culling, but they still need to have their paperwork together if they expect to live in the city.

You’ve spent most of the last few weeks working on this network, the TrolliianExiile client, and all of these complicated plans. Since you got here, any time not spent on your palace duties has been spent here at this husktop. You’re tired. Exhausted, really. But you can’t stop until this is done. People are counting on you.

\-- apocalyp2eArii2en [AA] began trolliing twiinArmageddon2 [TA] \--

AA: equius and eridan have been talking again  
TA: let them talk.  
TA: ii really cant make my2elf care.  
AA: i think equius is l0sing patience, h0wever  
AA: he never did like eridan  
AA: and ive p0inted 0ut h0w hyp0critical hes being  
AA: hes n0t really in a p0siti0n t0 judge the difference of hem0status between y0u and feferi  
AA: when the difference between him and me is nearly as great  
TA: hone2tly ii cant fiigure out what you 2ee iin hiim.  
TA: he2 a judgemental a22hole.  
TA: dont tell me you dont 2ee that.  
AA: he is my kismesis  
AA: 0f c0urse i think hes an assh0le  
TA: you diidnt even liike hiim untiil he made you that 2oul bot.  
TA: he2 maniipulatiing you 2omehow.  
TA: ii dont liike iit.  
AA: y0u w0uld be c0rrect in thinking that he meant t0 use the s0ul b0t t0 influence my feelings f0r him  
AA: that was his intenti0n  
AA: i caught his act 0f sab0tage in time and rem0ved the 0ffending hardware  
AA: but the act 0f sab0tage itself was...  
AA: delici0usly nefari0us  
TA: ugh.  
TA: ok ii dont want two hear any more.  
TA: but 2peakiing of 2abotage.  
TA: iif you thiink theyre planniing on tryiing 2omethiing...  
AA: i will let y0u kn0w  
AA: alth0ugh i d0ubt they w0uld sab0tage y0ur plans f0r the sake of hurting y0ur relati0nship with feferi  
AA: they kn0w t00 much is at stake  
TA: ii hope 2o.

You hear the door open. Feferi is back.

TA: ii have two go.  
TA: ii wiill talk two you later.  
AA: bye  
AA: <>  
TA: <>

\-- twiinArmageddon2 [TA] cea2ed trolliing apocalyp2eArii2en [AA] \--

Feferi comes into the block. She’s dripping wet from her day underwater and she grins when she sees you.

“Sollux!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around you. She’s always so enthusiastic in her greetings. Her mouth finds yours and you kiss.

“I missed you,” she says against your mouth. “So many boring meetings today.”

You stroke her hair. It’s the odd sort of hair of a sea dweller, almost filamentous, and it sheds water just like her clothes do, so even just out of the water it’s already flyaway and loose. Her pupils are ringed with bright, clear purple. She’s the most gorgeous troll in the Imperial City, and no, you’re not biased. 

“AA says EQ and ED were talking again,” you say, fighting to control your lisp. It’s not really how you meant to greet her, but it just came out.

Her shoulders sag a little. “He just won’t leave this alone,” she replies. She sounds frustrated. “He thinks he knows what’s best for me and it’s just so—” She cuts herself off.

“He can go fuck himself,” you say.

“Don’t,” she says tiredly. “He’s still my friend, even if it’s not in the way he wants it to be.” She hugs you for a moment, resting her ear against your chest, and then sighs and lets go of you. “But let’s not think about that right now. Have you made any progress?”

“A little.” You take her to the husktop and point out the changes you’ve made, although you don’t know how much of it she understands. She’s intelligent but computers aren’t her thing, which is why she has you.

She’s suitably impressed, which is both gratifying and a little condescending. Sometimes—and you _know_ you shouldn’t think this way, but you can’t help it—you think that she thinks of you as a pet, someone to encourage with treats and pats on the head. It doesn’t matter what you do. She will always tell you what a good job you’re doing and how she knows the two of you are going to make this work.

“I don’t know if this is going to be done in time,” you say, staring at the husktop screen.

“It will,” Fef says immediately. “It’s only been a week and you’ve gotten so far. Karkat and Tavros still have more traveling to do. You still have time.”

Yes, but. Maybe that’s not the deadline you were thinking of. It’s just that there’s a headache hovering just under your horns and it’s been there for a day now. There is a buzzing behind your teeth and the taste of metal on your tongue. You know these signs. There’s a migraine coming, a bad one, and the bad ones mean a shift. It means you stop being “marginally competent” Sollux and you start being “can’t leave his recuperacoon” Sollux, which is only slightly better than the other extreme, “incandescent brilliance” Sollux. That last Sollux gets things done, but he’s like a firecracker: powering all that brilliance is a barely controlled explosion, and he’s one scary motherfucker.

Before you became an adult, your lusus would be the one to force to out of your recuperacoon when you slept too much, or into it when you didn’t. Karkat was the one harassing you on Trollian, convincing you to eat. But you’re an adult now. You’re a slave. If you can’t function, you will be culled. That’s what happens to imperfect trolls.

You have perhaps another day before you become useless.

Feferi fluffs her hand through your hair, drawing your attention away from your thoughts. “It will work out,” she says, and kisses you on the end of the nose. “It will be _fine_. You’ll see. We’re _all_ working on this, and we’re going to save our friends _and_ save the world and do it all before Her Imperious Condescension even gets her ship turned around.”

And that’s a whole other looming deadline for you all. As the Heiress, Feferi can take control right now. It’s pretty much expected of her. She has Gl'bgolyb as a bargaining chip, which should keep her alive long enough to consolidate power before the Condesce returns to challenge her. But once the Condesce returns, all bets are off.

“Believe me, Sollux Captor,” she says, putting her arms around your shoulders and pressing her cheek to yours.

And you try.

  


* * *

  


You try to be quiet as you work at the husktop later. Feferi’s in the recuperacoon, asleep. You haven’t joined her yet. Your eyes are dry and you’re blinking far too much, but you still have a lot of work left ahead of you.

\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] began trolliing twiinArmageddon2 [TA] \--

CA: this is my last wwarnin pissblood  
CA: just stop this  
TA: oh god, would you ju2t 2hut up.  
TA: ii really dont have the energy for thii2.  
CA: i dont havve the fuckin patience for this so i guess this is a convversation neither a us wwants to havve  
CA: but im not goin to let you put her in harms wway  
TA: iim not the one who2 tryiing two hurt her.  
CA: how am i hurtin her  
TA: by refu2iing to take no for an an2wer.  
TA: 2he doe2nt want you.  
TA: 2he never ha2.  
TA: 2he never wiill.  
CA: this is not about that  
TA: bull2hiit.  
CA: no i swwear  
CA: this has nothin to do wwith that  
CA: coddammit howw many times do i havve to keep sayin that  
CA: she cant get powwer to kill the condesce if she makes enemies a evveryone  
TA: youre not her moiiraiil anymore.  
CA: I FUCKIN KNOWW  
TA: 2he ha2 a new one.  
CA: wwait  
CA: wwhat  
TA: 2he diidnt tell you?  
CA: youre a fuckin liar  
CA: she wwoulda told me  
TA: maybe 2he doe2nt want you two go cry about iit.  
TA: cant 2ee why not though.  
CA: wwho  
TA: promii2e youre not goiing two cry and iill tell you.  
CA: youre just makin this up as you go along  
CA: you think this is gonna upset me but it aint  
TA: maybe ii 2houldnt 2ay anythiing.  
TA: 2he probably wouldnt want me two tell you.  
CA: i wwas right you are lyin  
CA: youd tell me if she had someone  
TA: youre riight.  
TA: ii would.  
TA: iit2 kanaya.

There is a pause. You can see that he starts and stops typing several times before he writes:

CA: but they havve nothin in common  
TA: theyve been talkiing 2iince before the drone2 came.  
TA: kn ii2 her amba22ador.  
TA: 2he2 helpiing ff get through 2ome poliitiical 2tuff.  
TA: 2iince ff cant trust any other royalty enough.  
CA: she

Another long pause. You smirk at the screen and do another few lines of code while you’re waiting. Well, that bombshell has perked you right up. You guess that asshole is good for something.

CA: she wwoulda told me  
TA: apparently not.  
CA: but  
CA: ok  
CA: wwhatever  
CA: this isnt wwhat i came to talk about  
CA: i just wwanted to say that if you dont convvince her to end this “project” tomorroww  
CA: i wwill end it for you

\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] cea2ed trolliing twiinArmageddon2 [TA] \--

You snort and close the window. Good luck with that, asshole. Of all the enemies you have in this city, Eridan is the one you fear the least.


	12. Chapter 12

**Pesterlog excerpt:**

\-- carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] began trolliing turntechGodhead [TG] \--

CG: HEY ASSHOLE.  
CG: I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU STOPPED TALKING TO TEREZI.  
CG: AND WHEN I SAY I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT, DON’T ASSUME THAT THAT’S A FRIENDLY REQUEST.  
CG: YOU’RE GOING TO STOP.  
TG: is that her name  
TG: shell be so happy when i tell her who told me  
CG: YOU AREN’T GOING TO TELL HER BECAUSE YOU AREN’T GOING TO SPEAK TO HER AGAIN.  
CG: AM I MAKING MYSELF CLEAR?  
TG: is she your girlfriend or something  
TG: are you jealous of my natural strider charm  
TG: because just between you and me i think its working  
CG: HOW CAN I BE JEALOUS OF SOMETHING THAT DOESN’T EXIST?  
CG: IT’S NOT JUST THAT IT DOESN’T EXIST. THE VOID OF YOUR SO CALLED “STRIDER CHARM” IS LIKE A BLACK HOLE OF NONEXISTENCE.  
CG: THAT DISTANT WAIL YOU HEAR IS MATTER PASSING OVER THE EVENT HORIZON OF YOUR ABSOLUTE LACK OF CHARM.  
TG: no no you see youre failing at this metaphor  
TG: yes my charm is like a black hole  
TG: ill give you that  
TG: no one can resist it  
TG: it sucks in bitches like it aint no thang  
TG: if i were you id step off son  
TG: youre edging closer to the point of no return  
TG: another couple minutes and youll be inside the singularity  
CG: I JUST PROJECTILE VOMITED.  
CG: THAT GLIMPSE INTO THE ABYSS OF YOUR LACK OF CHARM JUST TRIGGERED INTENSE ORGAN CHURNING NAUSEA.  
CG: MY LIQUEFIED BILE SAC IS MAKING ITS WAY UP MY PROTEIN CHUTE AS WE SPEAK.  
TG: thats like a sex organ right  
CG: WHAT.  
TG: thats your troll word for your beef thermometer  
TG: your spam javelin  
CG: OH MY GOD SHUT UP.  
TG: youre hitting on me right now arent you  
CG: NO.  
TG: your trouser snakes about to spit  
CG: YOU DON’T EVEN  
CG: THAT’S NOT  
CG: I DON’T EVEN HAVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT TO KNOW THAT YOU’RE BEING DISGUSTING RIGHT NOW.  
TG: youre typing with one hand arent you  
CG: JUST SHUT UP.  
TG: its ok  
TG: i have that effect on people  
CG: STOP TYPING.  
CG: THIS CONVERSATION IS OVER.  
TG: so soon?  
TG: was it good for you too?

\-- carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] cea2ed trolliing turntechGodhead [TG] \--  


* * *

  
 **Vriska**

This “being an adult” thing is such a pain. If you could, you would be out of here so fast. Game over. Thanks for playing!

Your place in the city isn’t so bad. You’re at a nice comfortable spot on the hemospectrum. You’re not a pathetic rustblood, obviously. You’d just cull yourself if you were that dumb and weak. You’re not a boring greenie either, the kind who have to get regular jobs and live stupid lives. And you’re not one of those self-important highbloods who has to fuck around with politics and intrigue every day. You can just be yourself!

But being yourself is actually kind of boring, it turns out. You have a suite of blocks in an expensive hivestem, but even though you’re used to being alone in your hive, it seems lonelier now that you’re surrounded by a lot of trolls going about their lives. Maybe it’s just because so many of your friends are busy with other things now, so you can’t get them to play video games with you.

You have to make a decision about your future. This first sweep of adulthood is traditionally spent in enforced socialization, cementing your place on the hemospectrum, giving you a chance to track down a kismesis and matesprit, and training for your spot in the fleet. Everyone is typically enrolled in the training program of their chosen career by the end of their first perigee in the city, and spends the sweep in intense study and training. By the time you turn nine, you’ll have to do your duty at the filial pails and then, depending on your career choice, you’ll be shipped out. Officers are usually trained for a few more sweeps before they go. Footsoldiers go out pretty early, which makes sense because they’re usually lowbloods and they have much shorter lifespans. It’s best to get as much use out of them as possible before they kick it. “Kicking the bucket” is a troll idiom that probably doesn’t translate into English. To accidentally kick the filial pail is a very serious crime in troll culture, with invariably fatal consequences.

There is a skeleton crew of trolls who stay in the city doing planetside chores. They’re the ones who keep the city running for the endless flow of trolls through its gates. They’re typically the greenies.

You have always wanted to be a gamblignant, although the days of piracy on the high seas are long over. Not that pirates don’t still exist—the trolls aren’t exactly a unified race, and there are as many predators out in space as there once were on the seas. But that’s not a career you can plan for. You don’t really _want_ to plan for a career. BORING. Is it so wrong to like the life you had before?

The only benefit to the life you have now is that you don’t have an overbearing lusus to demand food from you all the time. Hope you starve, spidermom!

You drop down into the chair at your desk where your husktop is waiting for you. Barely anyone is on TrolliianExiile except Gamzee and Equius, and you really don’t feel like talking to them. You could talk to Equius in real life if you wanted. He only lives two hivestems down from you. Gamzee’s in the wealthier district, with an entire hive to himself instead of just a suite of blocks. You’ve only seen it from the outside one time when you first got here and you were roaming the city looking for something to do.

Actually, you lied. There is someone online that you’ve spoken to briefly once before. He’s weird, but oddly charming, and you’re not entirely certain that he’s even a troll, which is strange.  A few days ago when you contacted him for the first time, you had been hoping he was a blueblood in your hivestem, or at least nearby, and might want to play video games with you, but after an awkward conversation where it turned out you had no video games in common and also he didn't live in a hivestem, you began to realize that something was off about him. You are beginning to suspect that he’s an alien, possibly from some species that’s been subjugglated by the Imperial Fleet. You know aliens exist, though not a lot of news filters back to Alternia about them. Mostly they’re just used as livestock, but who knows? Maybe this one managed to escape and get internet access somehow. It’s hard to picture him as escaped livestock, though. He’s just so _cheerful._

\-- arachniid2Griip [AG] began trolliing gho2tyTriick2ter [GT] \--

AG: Heeeeeeeey John!  
AG: What are you up to?  
GT: hi!  
GT: i'm just doing some homework before i go to bed.  
GT: it's late here.  
AG: There are hours 8efore sunrise!  
GT: not enough.  
GT: ugh so much work.  
AG: What sort of work are you talking a8out?  
GT: history.  
AG: Aw you’re still 8eing schoolfed! That's so cute.  
GT: yeah...  
GT: you don’t go to school?  
AG: I finished that stuff aaaaaaaages ago  
AG: Now I have to think a8out enrolling in an academy!  
AG: I don’t know which one yet though ::::/  
GT: yeah i had that same problem.  
GT: i ended up applying to six different colleges because i couldn't decide!  
AG: Why would you even 8e applying? You’re not joining the Imperial Fleet, are you?  
GT: you're the second person to mention an imperial fleet to me.  
GT: which empire are you talking about?  
AG: Wow I don't know, which one could I POSSI8LY 8e talking a8out?  
AG: There’s only one!  
AG: Here’s a hint: it’s pro8a8ly the same one that conquered your pathetic species.  
GT: um.  
GT: wow i don't know why it didn't occur to me that you're trolling me too.  
GT: you are in my trollslum after all.  
AG: John, that’s such a weird thing to say  
GT: are you a troll too?  
AG: O8viously!  
GT: you must be friends with carcino geneticist  
AG: Ugh, him.  
AG: I wouldn't call us friends.  
AG: He whines and complains 8LL THE TIME.  
GT: haha.  
GT: he's very angry, isn't he?  
AG: Don't even talk to me a8out him.  
AG: Tell me a8out your species.  
AG: Are you hiding on Alternia?

What follows is a long and improbable discussion about some place called Earth that you’re pretty sure he’s making up as he goes along. But the conversation achieves what it was meant to, and by the time John begs off to go to sleep, it’s getting pretty late in the evening. There’s still time to get some fresh air, though, and you’re getting hungry, so you grab your jacket and head out the door.

It had taken you a few days to get over the crowds but now you kind of find them energizing, at least when you’re outside of the loneliness of your hivestem. There are so many trolls! Most of them are new arrivals who got here at the same time you did, and there are more coming every day as the drones continue their classification across the grublands. So many eager little eight-sweep-olds, salivating at the chance to make their mark on the world. You can hardly believe you’re one of them. The streets crawl with vehicular arthropods. They leave thin trails of quickly drying mucus as they roll by, leaving behind the scent of pheremones and mechanical exhaust. Your hivestem has a driver on call but you’d rather walk.

\-- arachniid2Griip [AG] began trolliing centaur2Te2tiicle [CT] \--

AG: Hello neigh8or!  
AG: Have you had dinner yet?  
CT: D --> No  
CT: D --> I had planned to send Aradia to fetch dinner  
AG: Hahahahahahahaha  
AG: Does that ever work?  
AG: Wait don't tell me  
AG: You like it 8etter when she refuses  
CT: D --> We will join you  
AG: I wasn't inviting Megido ::::/  
CT: D --> Aradia does not eat food  
CT: D --> However, Nepeta is here  
CT: D --> She will join us  
AG: I guess that's ok  
CT: D --> You have little choice in the matter

\-- centaur2Te2tiicle [CT] cea2ed trolliing arachniid2Griip [AG] \--

You get to his hivestem and loiter outside, your hands in your pockets. Most of the trolls on the streets are greenbloods. You see two rustbloods scurry past, laden with packages. They keep their eyes low, avoiding trouble. It makes you think of Tavros. You frown and put that out of your mind.

Equius and Nepeta arrive downstairs a moment later. Nepeta is pouting, but she follows obediently behind Equius.

“I’m not even hungry,” she says. “I wish I could catch my own food.”

“You will eat,” says Equius. “You haven’t eaten all day.”

“Food tastes better when you chase it first.” Nepeta shoots you a tentative look. “Hi.”

You know she doesn’t like you, although it’s through no fault of your own. Terezi has poisoned her against you, you’re sure of it. “Hey,” you say dismissively, turning away. “There’s a place around the corner that I like.”

“I have a restaurant in mind,” Equius says. He starts walking down the street, forcing you both to follow. You catch up with him casually and try to look like you’re not tagging along behind.

Twenty minutes later finds the three of you sitting at a table in the restaurant Equius chose. It has an extensive vegetarian menu, which is probably why Equius picked it. He has a weird respect for animals, which is kind of off-putting. A meal isn’t a meal without meat in it.

“I wonder if they serve the hoofbeast raw,” Nepeta says eagerly, jabbing one claw at the menu. “That sounds good.”

“You can’t have that,” Equius says.

“Just because you don’t eat meat—” Nepeta starts.

“Let her order it,” you say with a grin. “I want to see the look on the waiter’s face.”

Nepeta looks lost. She frowns at Equius. “What?”

He takes the menu from her and flips it to the back page, then hands it back to her. He points at a section of the menu done in green ink. “This is a high caste restaurant,” he says. “They enforce the laws here.”

“Um.” Nepeta looks from him to you and back again. “What… laws?”

You laugh out loud. “Oh come _on_ , Nepeta. Did your lusus teach you _nothing_?”

Equius shoots you a quelling look. “Hoofbeast is high caste,” he says to Nepeta. He keeps his voice low to avoid being overheard by the other diners. “They won’t sell it to someone of such low blood.”

You lean forward and poke at her menu. “You’re probably a little too low to be served here at all,” you say. “You’re practically _lime_.”

For a moment Nepeta looks mortified. She bites down on it and glares at you, flushing. It only makes her green blood even more obvious.

“It wasn’t a problem back home,” she says.

“Don’t say _that_ too loud,” you say. “That’s _poaching_.”

Equius sighs. “You’re here as my guest,” he says. “Just pick something. Vriska, don’t make a scene.”

Nepeta miserably studies the menu. You study your own and decide to order something as raw and bloody and blue as you can stand.  


* * *

  
After Equius and Nepeta return to their hives, you walk the few blocks to the ocean. The sky is warming in the distance, so you know you’re going to have to go home soon. The streets are nearly empty, with only a few vehicular arthropods scooting by.

This city is so old. Even two hundred sweeps gone, its former function as the hub of an Empire is still evident. You can see the sweeping stone arches at the entrance of the harbor where the freight ships used to pass in and out. Now that most adults are off-planet, there’s no need for as much industry. The grublands are really very sparsely populated and mostly support themselves with farmlands.

You rest your elbows on the bulwark over the ocean and stare out. The water is choppy and whitecapped this morning. The wind smells like salt.

You don’t have patience for the careers available to you. You don’t fit neatly into the minor nobility like the other cerulean bloods do. You are always the best at what you do, whether it’s FLARPing in the grublands or enrolling in an academy in the Imperial City. You aren’t going to settle for mediocrity.

It used to be that people would live in this city for their entire lives. Now it’s just a waypoint where trolls pass through on the way to adulthood, only returning once every few sweeps on a rotating shift to fill a pail for the imperial drones. Some trolls, especially the short-lived rustbloods, never make it back. You wonder if you’ll miss this place when you leave.


	13. Chapter 13

**Pesterlog excerpt:**

\-- griimAuxiiliiatriix [GA] began trolliing tentacleTherapii2t [TT] \--

GA: I Assume You Must Be A Friend Of Sollux Since You Are On My Chumproll  
GA: Please Forgive Me If These Unsolicited Greetings Seem Presumptuous Of Me   
TT: They may be unsolicited but your politeness is refreshing.  
TT: However, I do not know anyone named Sollux.   
GA: Oh  
GA: I Thought He Had Added You To Trollian  
GA: I Am Not Very Knowledgeable When It Comes To Technology   
TT: I do not use Trollian, although you and eleven others were added to my trollslum in Pesterchum a week or so ago.  
TT: I’m not sure what prompted the change.   
GA: I Am Sorry For Bothering You   
TT: Is green lower than purple?   
GA: What   
TT: On this so-called hemospectrum. You are a troll, right? From caligulasAquarium’s description, the caste system seems to be based on a hierarchy similar to the visible light spectrum, rising from red through to violet, rather than on the artist’s color wheel, which is in a closed loop. If that assessment is correct, the green of your text would be lower than the purple of mine.   
GA: Yes That Would Be A Correct Assessment  
GA: I Was Not Aware That You Were A Friend Of Eridans   
TT: Is that their name?   
GA: Yes   
TT: Are they your friend as well?   
GA: I Would Not Say That He Is My Friend  
GA: I Do Speak To Him On Occasion Unfortunately   
TT: What is your name, if you don’t mind me asking?   
GA: Kanaya   
TT: Nice to meet you, Kanaya. I’m Rose.   


* * *

  
**Tavros**

Karkat spends several hours hiding in the roots of the tree where he managed to escape the imperial drone, and you make yourself comfortable in the hollow between two hulking boulders. It’s the “shelter” that the FLARPing map was talking about, although shelter is not really a word you’d use. It does keep the sunlight from hitting you, which is the best you can say about it.

Tinkerbull does not return. You try to reach out to him mentally through your connection, but there are lots of animals in the woods and it’s hard to pinpoint him. He could be alive. Or maybe not.

You’re too full of adrenaline to sleep, so instead you methodically clean the joints of your legs. They are no longer the smooth, shiny metal that they were when Equius made them for you. They’re dulled and scratched with hard wear, and you’ve spent at least an hour every day working pebbles and grit out of the moving parts and wiping away any signs of damp.

You pick leaf mold out from between your metal toes and listen for any sounds in the woods around you. The imperial drones are probably still around. They’ll be on high alert now that they’ve found you. Even if they don’t know why you’re on the run, you’re obviously fugitives. FLARPers wouldn’t be out and about in the woods at this time of sweep.

After an hour you’re desperately exhausted and you realize that you’ve been tensing with every tiny noise in the woods around you. You can’t sleep because you can’t let your guard down. For the first time, you’re alone, and it’s terrifying.

adiio2Toreador [AT] began trolliing termiinallyCapriiciiou2 [TC]

AT: aRE YOU AWAKE,

There is no response. Gamzee keeps odd hours so you never really know when he’s going to be online, although he always tries to be online around sunrise when he knows that you’ll be settling into a shelter and will have some time to talk. But these past few days he’s been a little more, well, capricious than usual.

AT: i CANT SLEEP,  
AT: aND tINKERBULL IS GONE,  
AT: aND THE DRONES ARE AROUND,  
AT: i'M JUST GOING TO PRETEND YOU’RE REALLY HERE,  
AT: sO i HOPE YOU DON'T MIND,

You pause at a sound somewhere in the woods nearby. You reach out carefully with your mind but it’s just a hopbeast darting to avoid a shadow in the sky.

AT: i'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THE CITY,  
AT: aT THIS POINT IN TIME i THINK IT SEEMS KIND OF,  
AT: uH,  
AT: mYTHICAL,  
AT: lIKE i'M NOT EVEN SURE IF IT REALLY EXISTS,  
AT: i HAVE THIS FEELING THAT i'LL BE STUCK IN THESE WOODS FOREVER,

Your scars itch. The robot legs are attached to metal struts that have been screwed into your bones, and where the metal struts connect with your flesh is a constant source of irritation. The bundle of cables plugged into your spine to connect with your nerves is also a daily annoyance. It’s not that you’re not grateful. You would have been culled if Equius hadn’t done the surgery. There is no question of that. You wish it didn't have to happen but you're glad for the second chance it gave you.

AT: i KNOW THAT SOUNDS STUPID,  
AT: iT'S JUST HOW i FEEL,  
AT: rIGHT NOW,  
AT: i KEEP HAVING THESE DREAMS WHERE,  
AT: uM,  
AT: aLTERNIA WAS DESTROYED,  
AT: aND i CAN FLY,  
AT: aND WE'RE ALL TOGETHER IN SPACE, dOING COOL THINGS,  
AT: aND,  
AT: uM,  
AT: aND THEN vRISKA,

You stop typing. You wish Gamzee were here. You wish Tinkerbull were here. You wish Karkat were here.

AT: i DON'T REMEMBER HOW THAT DREAM ENDS,   


* * *

  
You do end up falling asleep for a while, although you jerk awake maybe two hours later at a sound. The woods are dark again. You blink blearily up at the sky.

The sound comes again: someone walking through the leaves. You reach out to it mentally. It’s a troll, but that’s as far as you’re able to tell. Your powers don’t work on trolls. You hold your breath.

“Tav,” whispers a voice. It’s Karkat. He appears in the space between the boulders and squeezes through.

“Holy shit,” you say.

He is covered in blood. It has run down his face and is smeared where he has tried to wipe it away. His hair is matted with it. It’s a dark, thick red now that it has dried. You scramble to sit up.

“Culling fork,” he mutters, dropping heavily down onto the ground next to you.

You decaptchalogue the healing salve and a bottle of water. “The blood is going to draw predators,” you whisper.

“I forgot to captchalogue an ablution trap,” he snaps. He peels his shirt over his head. It sticks to his skin with dried blood. There are dark, mottled bruises on his flank.

You hand him the bottle of water and he wets a clean edge of the shirt and starts washing his face.

“I didn’t sleep much,” you say.

“Me either,” he says. You’re both talking really quietly, and you both keep pausing when you hear distant noises. He dampens the shirt again and dabs at the top of his head, hissing. You take it from him and clean the wound carefully, applying the healing salve. The gouge in the top of his head is ugly but not terrible.

“That was close,” you say. You find the chip in his horn where the edge of the fork scraped it. That won’t grow back.

“Luckily it had shitty aim,” he says flatly. You sit back, recaptchaloguing the healing salve. He takes a new shirt from his sylladex and pulls it over his head.

“The drones have to be nearly done,” you say. “We’re almost at the end of the grublands.”

He takes out the map and lays it down. The grublands end only a few dozen miles northeast of you. After that there is a long stretch of rural, mostly empty territory—farms to support the city—and then the start of the adult lands. The Imperial City lies two hundred miles to your northeast, right on the coast.

“If we’re lucky, we can catch a train here,” Karkat says. His finger taps a spot on the map sixty miles north. “It’s the closest station. But look, there are roads here. It’ll be easier.” He looks at you. “We can get food.”

Your stomach growls on command. He smirks.

“We can’t leave though,” you say. “Not yet.”

“No, I’m going to sleep first,” he says.

“No, I mean—” You hesitate. “I mean Tinkerbull.”

He stares at you.

“I can’t leave him,” you insist.

He hesitates for a second, looking uncomfortable before he finally says, “Tav, he’s dead.”

“Shut up. You don’t know that. I can’t leave him if there’s a chance he’s out there somewhere.”

“Where would he be? He would have found us if he was still capable of it.”

“Maybe he’s lost! He didn’t know where we were going. He just followed me.” You can remember him darting at the imperial drone right as Karkat did the same. Both of them distracting the drones to give you time to run. A drone would have no trouble culling him. Had Tinkerbull sacrificed himself for you? The thought makes your stomach churn.

“We can’t just wander around looking for him.”

“I told you I’m not leaving him!”

“What do you expect us to do?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I think I should go back to where we lost him and—and see if—I mean maybe he’s still around there, you know? Waiting for us.”

“Back where we met the drones,” he says dully.

“If they killed him, he’ll be there,” you say quietly.

Karkat closes his eyes. They have become more red over the last week—a _lot_ more red. That’s a problem you’re going to have to deal with soon, but not right at this second.

“Fine,” he says.  


* * *

  
termiinallyCapriiciiou2 [TC] began trolliing adiio2Toreador [AT]

TC: HeY bRo  
TC: SoRrY aBoUt ThAt  
TC: I hAd To TaLk To SoMe PeOpLe WhO wErE aLl Up AnD pEsTeRiNg Me AbOuT sHiT  
TC: ThEy DoN't LeAvE mE aLoNe HeRe   
AT: hEY,  
AT: i'M GLAD YOU'RE BACK,   
TC: It GiVeS mE a BiG mOtHeRfUcKiNg SmIlE tO cOmE bAcK tO yOuR mEsSaGeS tHoUgH  
TC: MaKeS mE nOt MiNd ThIs OtHeR sHiT sO mUcH   
AT: wHAT OTHER SHIT?   
TC: NaH bRo  
TC: I'm Up AnD DoNe WiTh ThAt FoR nOw   
AT: iS IT ABOUT THAT SUBJUGGLATION STUFF AGAIN?   
TC: i said i don't  
TC: MOTHERFUCKING  
TC: want to talk about it   
AT: oKAY,  
AT: sORRY,  
AT: uM,  
AT: wHAT DO YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT,   
TC: wHaTeVeR yOu WaNt, TaVbRo  
TC: TeLl Me WhAt'S uP  
TC: WhAt HaPpEnEd To TiNkErBuLl?   
AT: wE RAN INTO SOME CULLING DRONES,  
AT: tINKERBULL DISTRACTED ONE,  
AT: sO i COULD ESCAPE,  
AT: aND NOW i DON’T KNOW WHERE HE IS,   
TC:  YoU cAn’T cAlL oUt To HiM wItH tHoSe MoThErFuCkInG bItChTiTs MeNtAl PoWeRs Of YoUrS?   
AT: i TRIED,  
AT: bUT HE’S TOO HARD TO PINPOINT,  
AT: iF HE’S EVEN STILL ALIVE,  
AT: i NEED SOME SORT OF REFERENCE,  
AT: lIKE A GENERAL AREA,  
AT: wHERE HE MIGHT BE HIDING,  
AT: bUT HE COULD BE ANYWHERE,   
TC: YoU’lL fInD hIm   
AT: kARKAT THINKS IT’S TOO DANGEROUS TO GO BACK TO LOOK,  
AT: bECAUSE THE DRONES COULD STILL BE THERE,   
TC: YoU dOn’T uP aNd LeAvE a FrIeNd BeHiNd  
TC: I kNoW yOu BrO  
TC: It’S nOt WhAt YoU dO  
TC: I kNoW mY pAlEbRo HaS aLl ThEsE tHoUgHtS iN hIs HeAd Of DoInG tHe LoGiCaL tHiNg CuZ tHaT’s WhAt He’s BeSt At  
TC: BuT yOu DoN’t LeAvE a MoThErFuCkInG bEsT fRiEnD bEhInD   
AT: gAMZEE,  
AT: tHANKS,   
TC: No PrObLeM :o)   


* * *

  
You move slowly.

You can’t be reckless anymore, expecting that your own powers and Tinkerbull’s surveillance will warn you of a threat before it’s too late. Now you move quietly, a little at a time, keeping wary watch.

It’s a little tricky to retrace your steps, considering how you both weren’t paying much attention to landmarks when you fled, but you do make your way back there. You find the gouges in the soil where the drone fell down the hill. You find splattered blood where Karkat was injured. You keep moving, and you think you find the place where you first ran into the drones, although there’s nothing really to mark it apart from any other place in the woods.

The woods are silent. You can’t even hear wingbeast calls, and all the tiny animal minds around you are quiet and still, waiting.

“He’s not here,” you whisper as the two of you slowly spiral outward from the spot where you met the drones. There is no tiny lusus corpse in the leaves.

Karkat doesn’t answer you. The fact that you can’t find Tinkerbull is a _good_ thing—it means maybe he’s not dead after all—but Karkat is looking grimmer as you continue your search.

You keep reaching out to any spark of animal consciousness you find in the woods. At first you do it eagerly, touching on everything you find in the hopes that it’s him. After a while it’s just obsessive, a constant search, touching on the same minds over and over just to check, to make sure that you didn’t miss anything.

After an hour, Karkat finally grabs your arm. You haven’t been talking much out loud at all, for fear of drawing attention to yourselves. He leans in to your ear.

“We’re not going to find him,” he breathes.

“That means he’s _alive_ ,” you whisper back.

“How long do you expect us to keep looking?”

“Until we find him.”

“ _What if we don’t?_ ”

“We will.”

He lets out a frustrated snarl and lets go of your arm. You look around. You’ve covered this ground twice. It’s time to move further afield. Tinkerbull could have travelled some distance, drawing the drone away from you.

One of the moons is overhead, filtering green light through the leaves of the trees overhead. You can tell Karkat is angry in the way the branches snap under his feet. He’s being less careful about being quiet now.

“Karkat,” you whisper to him.

“This is why you shouldn’t have brought him,” he hisses back immediately.

“I would be dead if I didn’t bring him,” you say. “He saved my life. I can’t just leave him.”

“Grow up, Tavros. He’s a lusus. You have to leave him behind. That’s what trolls do.”

“I’m not a very good troll,” you return. “Everyone tells me that. Vriska told me your theory, um, about how my brain is too broken to hate people like I should. The imperial drones want to cull me because I’m damaged and I don’t have any awesome skills to make up for it like Terezi. I’m not a proper troll so why should I care what trolls do?”

“But it’s not a _choice_ ,” he insists. “You can’t just _choose_ not to grow up. It’s something that happens whether you want it to or not.”

“I chose to bring him,” you say.

“I DIDN'T HAVE THAT CHOICE!” he shouts. It’s so loud that you step back, and the silence of the woods is even deeper when the echoes fade. He flushes in embarrassment.

Nothing seems to have been alerted by the shout, though. You both stand in frozen silence for a long minute, listening, but nothing moves.

“I had to leave him behind,” he whispers finally. “I _had_ to.”

You suddenly realize that Karkat is hoping Tinkerbull is dead. If Tinkerbull is dead, that means you made a mistake in bringing him, and Karkat was justified in leaving his lusus behind. If Tinkerbull survives, that means Karkat was the one who made the mistake. Maybe his lusus could have survived the trip.

You don’t know what to say to that and so you turn away. You hear him sigh as you go back to searching the woods.

You find yourself thinking about growing up with Tinkerbull. It was hard sometimes to have a lusus that was so much smaller than you. Most trolls—especially those higher on the hemospectrum—had lusi that could protect them from predators, that could hunt for food and bring their kills back to the hive to prepare for a meal. You had tiny, perfect Tinkerbull, who was more of a friend than a guardian. Tinkerbull could tell you if danger was coming with enough time for you to run away. Maybe that's why Vriska told you that absconding is what you do best. Your lusus wasn’t vicious and neither are you. You wouldn’t _want_ any other lusus. Not even if having a different lusus would have made you a better troll. You don’t regret turning out the way that you did.

You poke through dead leaves with your walking stick. There is a sick fear in the pit of your stomach. You keep calling out to Tinkerbull through your mental connection, broadcasting your worry to all the animals in the woods. Maybe that’s why the forest is so silent. Everything feels your dread.

“Tavros,” Karkat whispers. He doesn’t sound angry anymore.

“I’m busy,” you mutter.

You hear him move through the leaves. He takes hold of your arm and tugs. You tug back.

“Kar—”

“Tav.”

His expression makes your chest go cold.

Tinkerbull’s body is at the foot of a tree. His white fur is streaked with chocolate blood from three neat puncture holes where the culling fork penetrated his sternum. You drop down next to him, hearing one metal knee clang off a rock but not caring. You pick up his body and cradle it in your arms.

Your eyes are too blurred to see anything at all. You hear movement as Karkat sits down next to you. He rests one hand on your shaking shoulder.

“Sorry I’m such an asshole,” he whispers as you cry.

Tinkerbull is cold. He would have died immediately. The culling drones knew what they were doing. These are distant thoughts in your head and you barely pay attention to them. You are consumed with an overpowering, choking grief. Tinkerbull has been your best friend your whole life. He died saving you. That’s what a lusus is supposed to do, if it comes down to it. Maybe other trolls didn’t think you’re worth saving, but your lusus did. You wonder if he knew that you had got away safely. Did he die knowing his sacrifice was worth it? You desperately hope so.

For a moment, as you hug his body, you wish that this was a story and not real life. You wish that if only you believed it hard enough, Tinkerbull wouldn’t be dead. You would bring him back with the power of your love, and he would be the same as always, flying ahead to check your path, resting on your horns when he got tired, and you would never have to leave him behind.

But that’s wiggler stuff, and you don’t believe it anymore.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway done. I appreciate all of you who are reading and commenting. You guys are fantastic.

**Pesterlog excerpt:**

\-- gho2tyTriick2ter [GT] began trolliing carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

GT: feeling any better?  
CG: WORSE, ACTUALLY.  
GT: oh no. why?  
CG: IN CASE YOU HADN’T NOTICED, I'M KIND OF AN ASSHOLE.  
CG: I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW I STILL GET SURPRISED WHENEVER I PROVE JUST HOW MUCH OF AN ASSHOLE I AM.  
GT: what happened?  
CG: IT DOESN'T MATTER.  
CG: YOU PROBABLY WOULD JUST PRETEND NOT TO KNOW WHAT A LUSUS WAS IF I TOLD YOU.  
GT: what's a lusus?  
CG: EXACTLY.  
GT: well...  
GT: i don't know what to say if you don't want to tell me!  
GT: did you apologize for being an asshole?  
CG: YEAH.  
GT: are going to try to be less of an asshole in the future?  
CG: NO. I THINK IT'S KIND OF LIKE A BIOLOGICAL IMPERATIVE.  
GT: haha.  
GT: i heard that you talked to dave earlier.  
CG: SPEAKING OF ASSHOLES.  
CG: YES.  
GT: he says he thinks you have a crush.  
CG: YOU CAN TELL HIM THAT I HOPE HE CHOKES TO DEATH ON A BULGING MUSCLEBEAST COCK.  
GT: i'm probably not ever going to say that to him.  
GT: also he'd just say you're still flirting with him.  
GT: ...are you?  
CG: OH MY GOD NO.  
CG: THAT WAS COMPLETELY PLATONIC MUSCLEBEAST COCK.  
CG: OKAY LET'S NOT TALK ABOUT DAVE ANYMORE.  
CG: CHANGE THE SUBJECT.  
GT: do you have a kismesis?  
CG: UH.  
CG: LET'S PRETEND THAT'S A CHANGE OF SUBJECT.  
GT: i was talking with arachnidsGrip about your troll culture and my human one and she told me about all these weird quadrants and things that i don't really understand.  
CG: WAIT. BACK UP. YOU WERE TALKING TO SPIDERBITCH?  
GT: oh. haha, she's the one you call spiderbitch?  
GT: (also that's really mean)  
CG: WHAT IS IT WITH YOU PEOPLE.  
CG: TEREZI IS SPENDING ALL OF HER TIME TALKING TO DAVE AND NOW YOU'RE TALKING TO VRISKA?  
GT: is that her name?  
GT: and anyway what's wrong with that?  
CG: BECAUSE DAVE IS AN ASSHOLE AND SHE SHOULDN'T SPEND HER TIME ON HIM.  
CG: AND VRISKA IS A PSYCHOTIC BITCH WHO KILLS TROLLS FOR FUN AND/OR FOOD.  
GT: kills trolls?  
GT: uh... food?  
CG: NO SHE DOESN'T EAT ANYONE.  
CG: SHE FEEDS THEM TO HER LUSUS.  
CG: OR SHE DID ANYWAY. I GUESS THAT'S OVER WITH NOW.  
GT: do you think you can tell me what a lusus is yet?  
CG: NOPE.  
GT: ...ok  
GT: why not?  
CG: I DON'T REALLY HAVE PATIENCE FOR YOUR DUMB ROLEPLAYING RIGHT NOW.  
GT: do you ever think...  
GT: maybe it's not roleplaying?  
GT: i mean, i sort of keep having this feeling that the things you're telling me are true.  
GT: even though it's obviously crazy.  
GT: i just feel like i've heard this kind of stuff before.  
CG: YES, EVERYTHING I'VE BEEN TELLING YOU IS TRUE.  
CG: I'M NOT THE ROLEPLAYER HERE.  
GT: i guess you don't get the same feeling i do, then.  
CG: WELL...  
CG: ONCE IN A WHILE I THINK MAYBE YOU'RE NOT SHITHIVE MAGGOTS.  
CG: BUT THAT FEELING PASSES QUICKLY WHEN YOU TELL ME YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A LUSUS IS OR WHAT A KISMESIS IS BECAUSE THAT'S JUST BASIC KNOWLEDGE THAT EVERYONE SHOULD KNOW.  
GT: what if you really are a troll? and i really am a human? and somehow we're really talking?  
CG: I KNOW THERE ARE OTHER ALIEN RACES OUT THERE BUT I SINCERELY DOUBT THAT THEY WOULD BE TALKING TO ME ON TROLLIAN.  
CG: OR PESTERCHUM OR WHATEVER.  
CG: FIRST OF ALL, THERE WOULD BE A LANGUAGE BARRIER.  
CG: SECOND, IF YOU'RE CLOSE ENOUGH TO SHOW UP ON THE NETWORK, YOU'RE CLOSE ENOUGH THAT WE'VE CONQUERED YOU ALREADY, SO YOU WOULD HAVE HEARD OF US BEFORE.  
GT: yeah i guess that's a good point.  
GT: it's weird that you're an alien but you're speaking english.  
CG: I'M NOT SPEAKING ENGLISH.  
CG: YOU'RE SPEAKING ALTERNIAN.  
GT: no i'm not!  
GT: you are definitely speaking english.  
GT: i don't speak any other language so how would i talk to you?  
GT: maybe pesterchum is translating it somehow?  
GT: i'll take a screenshot.  
GT: see?

\-- gho2tytriick2ter [GT] ha2 tran2ferred the fiile [definitelyspeakingenglish.png](http://i1141.photobucket.com/albums/n600/Mary_Morstan/Homestuck/definitelyspeakingenglish.png) \--

CG: THAT IS JUST GIBBERISH.  
CG: THOSE AREN'T WORDS AT ALL.  
CG: THIS IS WHAT OUR CONVERSATION LOOKS LIKE:

\-- you have tran2ferred the fiile [ITSFUCKINGALTERNIANDUMBASS.PNG](http://i1141.photobucket.com/albums/n600/Mary_Morstan/Homestuck/ITSFUCKINGALTERNIANDUMBASS.png) \--

GT: wow that looks...  
GT: colorful.  
CG: SHUT UP.  
CG: I DIDN'T MAKE THIS SHITTY THING.  
CG: SOME APPLEBERRY BLAST ASSHOLE MADE IT.  
GT: wait, do you read from right to left?  
CG: OBVIOUSLY?  
GT: that's so cool!  
GT: can you type my name in alternian and show me what it looks like?  
CG: OH MY GOD.  
CG: NO.  
CG: I HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO WITH MY TIME.  
GT: no you don’t.  
GT: if you did, you wouldn’t be talking to me at all!  
GT: who else are you talking to? i saw that other chat window open in your screenshot.  
CG: A FRIEND.  
GT: wow that was so informative! what are you talking about?  
CG: I'M TRYING TO CONVINCE HIM NOT TO KILL SOMEONE.  


* * *

  
**Eridan**

If Sollux doesn’t give up his place in the palace today, you will cull him like the defective pissblood slave he is.

This is the thought that greets you when you wake up in your recuperacoon. You roll over in the sopor slime, wiping it from your eyes, and you realize that it is absolutely, one hundred percent true. You are going to murder Sollux today. You know he’s not going to listen to your threats. He’s not going to stop. And so you will kill him.

There is one problem. You have Ahab’s Crosshairs, which is an immensely powerful weapon. But you’re not sure if it’s powerful enough. Not compared to Sollux’s telekinesis. That just shows what disgusting filth runs in his veins. The lowest on the hemospectrum have psychic powers to make up for their physical weakness, short lifespans, meek natures and mental deficiencies. That Sollux is so incredibly powerful just means that he’s a pathetic excuse for a troll.

You climb out of your recuperacoon and leave slimy footprints across the floor as you head for the shower. Your morning newspaper is folded neatly on your desk, underneath a steaming cup of coffee. Your servant is always a step ahead of you. At first it was weird, having someone take care of you, but now you think you kind of like it. She also doesn’t mind your quirks—for example, drinking coffee like a land dweller. Sea dwellers don’t drink, obviously, but you don’t spend enough time underwater to keep properly hydrated.

When you get out of the shower and finish dressing, your servant is just setting down a tray of breakfast. You think her name is Baneri. She’s a tealblood, and she curtseys demurely before retreating in silence.

Breakfast is a bowl of salty, butterflied prawns. You take the bowl to your desk and open TrolliianExiile, absently crunching on a bit of shell. Karkat’s online, you note with relief.

\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] began trolliing carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

CA: kar im gonna do it  
CG: DO WHAT?  
CA: wwhat do you think  
CG: YOU'RE FUCKING KIDDING ME.  
CA: absa-fuckin-lutely searious  
CG: ERIDAN THIS IS WHY YOU NEED AN AUSPISTICE.  
CG: OR A MOIRAIL.  
CG: ANYONE AT ALL.  
CG: THIS IS A FUCKING MISTAKE.  
CA: me not havvin a moirail is the wwhole problem here  
CG: LOOK.  
CG: CAN YOU WAIT?  
CG: I'LL BE THERE IN, FUCK, I DON'T KNOW, A WEEK?  
CG: WAIT A WEEK AND WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS.  
CA: i cant wwait a wweek  
CA: im doin it today  
CG: GIVE ME ONE GOOD REASON WHY IT HAS TO HAPPEN TODAY.  
CG: JUST ONE.  
CA: i think ivve wwaited too long already  
CA: fef needs me to do this  
CA: she just doesnt knoww it  
CG: FEFERI WILL NEVER TAKE YOU BACK IF YOU KILL SOLLUX.  
CG: NEVER, ERIDAN. DO YOU UNDERSTAND NEVER? THAT WILL BE IT BETWEEN YOU TWO FOREVER.  
CA: i knoww  
CA: i dont expect her to be grateful  
CA: im not stupid  
CA: i guess id just rather her to be alivve to hate me  
CG: SOLLUX ISN'T THE PROBLEM HERE.  
CG: THE PROBLEM IS THEIR PROJECT TOGETHER AND IF YOU THINK KILLING HIM IS GOING TO MAKE FEFERI SUDDENLY THINK THAT GIVING UP IS A GOOD IDEA, YOU DON'T KNOW FEFERI AT ALL.  
CG: YEAH HE'S THE ONE DOING THE ELECTRONIC STUFF AND SHE CAN'T WORK WITHOUT THAT, BUT THIS WAS HER IDEA TO START WITH. SHE'LL FIND ANOTHER WAY.  
CA: wwhose side are you on kar  
CG: THIS ISN'T ABOUT SIDES. THIS IS ABOUT ME TRYING TO KEEP YOU FROM MAKING A MASSIVE FUCKING MISTAKE.  
CA: if you had to choose betwween me and sollux wwho wwould you choose  
CG: YOU’RE BOTH MY FRIENDS.  
CA: thats a fuckin cheat answwer and you knoww it  
CG: I WILL TALK TO SOLLUX. I WILL FUCKING AUSPISTICIZE BETWEEN YOU TWO EVEN THOUGH I'M NOT THERE. GIVE ME SOME TIME, OKAY? COUNT THIS AS AN OFFICIAL ASHEN SOLICITATION.  
CA: times up kar  
CA: and you didnt answwer my question  
CG: IT’S A STUPID FUCKING QUESTION.  
CA: i dont wwant you as my auspistice  
CA: dont be so fuckin obtuse  
CA: ill talk to you later  
CG: WAIT.  
CG: DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE.

\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] cea2ed trolliing carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--  


* * *

  
You are royalty, and that means that when you walk the corridors, people get out of your way. When you have Ahab’s Crosshairs on your back, they get out of your way even faster.

The entrance to Feferi’s quarters is guarded by a blueblood. He recognizes you as you approach. His eyes flick to your rifle.

“Is Her Majesty in?” you ask him, stopping in front of the door.

“No, Prince Eridan,” he replies, lowering his eyes.

“What about her matesprit?”

The guard’s eyes dart to the Crosshairs again. “He’s in there,” he says blandly. He pulls the door open for you.

You step into Feferi’s quarters. Though they’re only her secondary quarters, as they’re above the waterline and thus necessarily inferior, they are still spectacular, with high, vaulted ceilings and elaborate marble floors. The furniture, elegant, is all decorated with intricate fretwork. It is a space befitting the Heiress to an Empire, even if most Heiresses end up on the wrong side of a culling fork.

Sollux is rising from a desk in the corner of the room, looking surprised at your sudden intrusion. The breakfast dishes are still sitting on a table where he has apparently been too busy with his apiculture to remove them. His surprise quickly turns to derisive amusement when he sees your gun.

“Here to stop my _project_?” he asks, his tongue lisping behind his fangs.

“I _warned_ you, pissblood,” you snarl.

“Fuck you, ED. You know my name.”

“And _you_ know my title.”

He grins. “Fuck you, _Your Magnifithenthe._ ”

You hate him _so much_. You imagine putting a hole through his head with the Crosshairs. Flash-evaporated mustard blood clouding the air. Bone shrapnel in the wall. It makes you feel better.

“So? Do it then.” He spreads his arms. Red and blue electricity crackles down his arms and snaps between his fingertips. “Oh, _that’s_ right. You _can’t_ , can you? You can’t just cull Feferi’s _matesprit_.”

You technically can’t. You would be willing to bet your life that the guard outside the door—and probably half the palace—would cheerfully swear up and down that you had no choice but to cull Sollux. They’d probably all testify that Sollux was a spy or a secret assassin. But you’re not going to cheat.

“I challenge you to a duel,” you say.

His grin widens. “I accept.”

“I'll wipe the fuckin’ floor with you at moonset,” you say.

“The sad thing is that you believe that.” He laughs. “You _actually_ think you’re better than me. News flash, ED: you can’t do _anything_ better than me.”

“Oh yeah?” you snap. “Say ‘ _kismesis_ ’.”

“You’d fucking love that, wouldn’t you.” His lip curls and you decide to take that as a victory because he doesn’t even try to pronounce the word.

When you get him in the ring, you’re going to rip those fangs out of his mouth one by one.

You turn on your heel. It’s designed to be an insult, presenting your back to him to show just how much you’re not afraid of him, although you both know that if he tries anything against you outside of an official duel, he’ll be culled so fast he won’t know what happened to him.  


* * *

  
\-- carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] began trolliing caliigula2Aquariium [CA] \--

CG: ERIDAN.  
CG: COME ON.  
CG: TALK TO ME.  
CG: LOOK, I'M CHOOSING A SIDE: YOURS.  
CG: I'M ON YOUR SIDE, ERIDAN.  
CG: WHICH MEANS STOP THIS SHIT AND TALK TO ME.  
CG: I DON'T WANT YOU MAKING A MISTAKE.  
CG: WE'LL FIGURE SOME OTHER WAY TO FIX THINGS, OKAY?  
CG: ERIDAN.  
CG: ANSWER ME.

\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] ha2 blocked carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--  


* * *

  
\-- tentacleTherapii2t [TT] began trolliing caliigula2Aquariium [CA] \--

TT: I've been informed that your name is Eridan. I did some research into the name and discovered that there is a constellation, Eridanus, in the southern sky. If you are an alien from some other planet, why are you named after a constellation only visible from the Earth?  
CA: maybe that constellation is named after me  
CA: that evver cross your mind  
TT: I can't say that it did.  
CA: its just a fuckin coincidence pinktext  
CA: look im busy right noww  
TT: Busy doing what, exactly?  
CA: you wwouldnt believve me if i told you  
TT: I believe I agreed to be as open minded as possible.  
CA: to show me howw delusional i am  
TT: Yesterday you were desperate to talk to me.  
CA: im not desperate  
CA: i dont fuckin need anyone  
CA: evveryone is tryna givve me advvice that i dont wwant  
CA: they pretend theyre helping me but they really just wwant to savve him  
CA: i guess i should be flattered that they assume im gonna wwin  
TT: Save whom?  
CA: the thorn in my fuckin side  
CA: the pissblood wwho ruins evvery fuckin thing he touches  
CA: he evven ruined this fuckin chat client and i cant evven message my friends wwithout havvin to look at his stupid typin quirk and ugly colors  
CA: hes not gonna stop until he destroys her too  
TT: Ah. A jealous rivalry with someone lower on your hemospectrum? Yellow must be extremely low.  
TT: I assume "pissblood" means yellow, though I understand that makes unsubstantiated assumptions about your no doubt exotic alien physiology.  
CA: its not about that  
CA: this isnt jealousy  
TT: How so?  
CA: ivve explained this too many times  
CA: i dont evven care anymore  
CA: believve wwhat you wwant  
TT: I'd like to have all the facts before I believe one way or another. Who is this “her”?  
CA: shes the heiress  
CA: she wwas my friend  
TT: High on the hemospectrum?  
CA: the highest  
TT: And this pissblood--can we refer to him by something other than a pejorative?  
CA: no  
TT: Okay. This pissblood is planning to destroy her.  
CA: yes  
TT: And your Heiress doesn’t understand the danger she’s in.  
CA: she has no clue  
TT: But you do, and since she isn’t listening to you, you’ve decided to take matters into your own hands, even though everyone is advising you otherwise.  
CA: youre smarter than i thought, pinktext  
TT: Of everyone involved, you have the clearest understanding of the real consequences of this situation.  
CA: of course i do  
TT: Can I tell you a story about Phaëton? This story has a particular connection to you because of its mythical association with the constellation Eridanus.  
CA: i dont havve time for stories  
TT: I will keep it short.  
CA: fine  
TT: Phaëton was the son of Helios the sun god, who drove his sun chariot across the sky every day. Phaëton always wanted to drive the chariot himself. He felt he could do a better job. His father refused, saying that Phaëton couldn’t handle the responsibility. Phaëton continued to argue, saying that he knew what he was doing. Finally his father allowed it.  
TT: However, Phaëton had barely started across the sky when he lost control of the chariot. The chariot hurtled closer and closer to Earth until it was in danger of setting everything on fire. To save the Earth, Zeus struck Phaëton with a thunderbolt, killing him.  
TT: Phaëton’s burning body fell to Earth and was finally quenched in a river, which is represented by the constellation Eridanus.  
CA: you call that short  
TT: I could draw it out if you prefer.  
CA: get to the point  
TT: The point is that it was hubris, Eridan. Phaëton believed he knew better than everyone who told him otherwise.  
CA: youre sayin im hubristic  
TT: I'm saying that when one person believes they know better than everyone else, they should consider that maybe they don’t have a clear perspective on the issue.  
CA: i think you misinterpreted that wwhole story  
TT: Did I?  
CA: they think they can change the wwhole fuckin society wwith their plans  
CA: theyre the ones who think they knoww better than evveryone else  
CA: theyre gonna crash and burn  
CA: im not phaëton  
CA: im the river

\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] cea2ed trolliing tentacleTherapii2t [TT] \--  


* * *

  
\-- cuttlefii2hCuller [CC] began trolliing  caliigula2Aquariium [CA] \--

CC: If you krill )(im I will never speak to you again.  
CA: your loss princess

\-- cuttlefii2hCuller [CC] cea2ed trolliing caliigula2Aquariium [CA] \--  


* * *

  
There is a crowd.

Word must have spread quickly. Royalty dueling a slave? A prince fighting the Heiress’s _pissblood matesprit?_ This is the duel of the sweep, and despite the incredibly late notice, the entire palace has turned out. Even the sea dwellers have deigned to surface. The room is slippery with their seawater trails. The room smells of salt and fish and you can hear the wet gurgle of their rarely used lungs working in the air.

You dressed for the occasion because this is a spectacle. More than anything, you know about spectacle. Your cape sweeps the floor and your boots click authoritatively with each step on the marble. Ahab’s Crosshairs is on your back, the handle rising up above your polished, zigzagged horns.

Feferi is there, waiting. She has a seat of honor overlooking the ring, and you can feel her glare as soon as you step into the room. Feferi, as excitable and enthusiastic as she is, is rarely angry, but she’s furious now.

Sollux is standing at her side. He’s in a uniform that befits his hemostatus—plain yellow and black. Feferi must have made him dress that way because you know he would have slouched into the duel in jeans and a t-shirt if he’d had his way. His horns, too, are polished, and you wonder if Feferi did that for him. Your hands tighten into fists and you force them to relax. This is not about jealousy.

You’re gonna rip his fuckin’ horns out of his skull.

Feferi squeezes Sollux’s hand—an action which you pretend to ignore—and then Sollux descends to the ring, down the stairs from Feferi’s dais. The room echoes with his steps. The ceiling domes overhead, meant to reflect back every step and breath taken by the duelists. Dueling is a constant occurrence among quick-tempered highbloods here in the palace. The sacrosanctity of the duel is inalienable in court. When brutality is the mark of high class, a defined space for violence is a necessity.

He steps into the ring and reaches his place opposite you. Without his stupid glasses on, you can see his bare eyes: one red, one blue. Another fuckin mutation that should’ve got him culled, although his psychic powers more than make up for that genetic horror.

“Prince Eridan Ampora,” says Feferi. Her voice echoes through the sound system. The crowd hushes. “You have challenged Sollux Captor in a duel to first blood. Is this correct?”

“To the death,” you say.

Feferi pauses. “To first blood,” she repeats.

You look at her. “To. The. Death.”

She stares at you, her expression unreadable. She is the Heiress, but the rules of the duel are law. If she refuses to accept the terms of your duel, it’s an insult not just to you but to everyone in the room.

“To first blood,” she says. There is an air of finality to her words. A wave of murmurs runs through the room. You nod and turn back to Sollux.

“I’ll make it count,” you say. Sollux smirks.

“Whatever quarrel you two have ends here,” Feferi says. “The judgement of this duel is final. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you say. Sollux echoes you.

“You will begin on the count of three,” Feferi says. “One.”

Red and blue electricity leaps to Sollux’s hands. You hear the scandalized gasp in the room—psychic powers are nothing to be proud of here. You doubt anyone in this room has even met someone low enough to have them.

“Two.”

You draw Ahab’s Crosshairs.

“Three.”

The white, searing beam of pure energy from the Crosshairs meets his red and blue electricity halfway across the ring with a crack that echoes like thunder. You are already moving, circling around, keeping away from the second blast he sends in your direction. You shoot again—a perfect shot, of course, because you’re a brilliant marksman—but he counters it effortlessly.

As you dodge again, you realize that he _is_ stronger than you. You had suspected he might be. His telekinesis has no trouble shunting the energy of the Crosshairs off to the side, dispersing it in harmless sparks that skitter across the marble floor of the ring.

Another red and blue blast flashes toward you. You dodge to the side and hear him release a second one, cutting off your path of escape. You fire the Crosshairs at the blast. Heat flashes across your face and your clothes whip in the burst of wind, but the Crosshairs does its job and deflects the energy.

In between the flashes of light and heat you can see Sollux. He’s moving too, keeping on the opposite side of the ring from you. This is good. It means he’s taking you seriously. He’s smarter than he looks.

Everyone in this room wants to see his blood on the floor. Everyone except Feferi. You can’t spare a glance for her. It’s all you can do to keep ahead of Sollux.

This isn’t working. A prince doesn’t retreat in battle. You deflect another blast with the Crosshairs and then instead of retreating again, you lunge forward, straight toward him. You fire the Crosshairs and keep firing, pouring molten white heat at Sollux. It forces him to move back and you grin at his surprise, still bearing down on him. You like watching him run.

The crowd is roaring. You can hear it distantly behind the ear-shattering scream of your weapon. You are forcing Sollux to retreat again and again. You can see him sweating. Unlike yours, his weapon is biological and requires more effort than just pulling a trigger. And since _you’re_ starting to get tired, you know he must be running out of energy.

Sollux leaps to the side, trying to get out of your range. You turn to follow him and you can see Feferi standing on the dais, her fists clenched, her expression anguished. She thinks you’re going to win. They all think you’re going to win.

You are going to win this.

If he falters against your weapon, he will die. One hit, first blood and killing blow both at the same time. He will die. Feferi will lose her hacker. Her project will take a big step backward. She will never speak to you again.

You follow Sollux with the Crosshairs and for one fraction of a second, you let your finger slip off the trigger. It’s such a sort fragment of time, just the tiniest stutter in the blazing energy, that no one in the audience sees it happen. But Sollux does, and his blast is waiting.

There is a noise like a balloon popping and something hits you hard in the chest, hard enough to crack ribs. The room shears sideways. Something slams into the back of your head. It is, you realize distantly, the floor. Your vision fuzzes out like a bad connection, then blinks back to life.

You hear a distant noise like a tea kettle, and it takes you a moment to realize that it's the sound of the crowd. They sound very far away, like they’re at the other end of a long tunnel.

You can smell burning. You think it might be your clothes.

Shapes appear over you and you tense in alarm, which was really a bad idea because it turns out that your arm is very broken. But it’s just two servants. One of them has a blanket to smother the embers of your cloak. The other slips an arm under your shoulders to discreetly help you sit up. You grit your teeth and try not to vomit all over him as he pulls you up. You’d rather just lie there, but if you can’t walk out of the ring under your own power, you will be humiliated.

Your head spins when you sit up. The servant carefully folds your broken arm up against your chest and tucks your good hand around it. Your teeth are clenching so hard that you think you’re going to crack a few. Across the ring, Sollux is standing, his chest heaving with deep breaths. He’s watching you. His uniform is soaked in sweat.

You struggle to your feet and the servants support you inconspicuously. They are skilled at making it look like you’re doing this under your own power. They don’t even let you sway when you get to your feet.

Feferi is still on the dais. Her expression is calm now. You can see a wrinkle of concern between her brows but her voice, when she speaks, is even and regal.

“First blood was drawn by Sollux Captor,” she announces. There is an angry grumbling in the room. You don’t look at the crowd. Feferi’s eyes turn to you.

You turn back to Sollux. Your spine doesn’t want to bend. You can feel a muscle in your jaw twitching. You gingerly bow to him. It’s as small of a bow as you think you can get away with as the loser of the duel. Sollux bows back with an equal lack of reverence, although at least he’s not looking smug.

The duel is over.  


* * *

  
In your quarters, a doctor sets your arm and tends to the minor burns on your flank. Your ribs are a horrific purple-blue, and the slits of your gills on your right side are angry and swollen. The healing salve will take care of the injuries, although it will take some time.

You slump in an armchair, clad only in your dressing gown and a pair of loose trousers. Your servant, Baneri, has prepared a cup of sweet, milky tea, heavily drugged, and you’ve already drained half of it. The painkillers lay heavy and warm over your mind. You watch her move quietly around the room, preparing the chamber for the morning.

You drift off for a few moments and wake again when Baneri clears her throat softly. She is waiting by your chair.

“I can assist Your Magnificence to the recuperacoon,” she says, her hands folded in front of her.

You blink at her and then wave a hand in a gesture that means whatever. She helps you to your feet. Like the servants in the ring, she is quite good at making it seem like you’re doing this under your own power. It lets you keep your dignity, however little of it you have left.

She helps you to the recuperacoon. You sit on the edge and take a breath to clear your head for a moment. She waits for you patiently.

“Thanks,” you mutter, and then you frown because you don’t know why you said that. If she’s thrown by it, she has the grace to hide it.

“If you’ll forgive me…” Baneri says hesitantly. You glance at her and she continues, “I believe Your Magnificence would have won over any honorable opponent.”

“Yeah,” you say.

“Your duel exposed him for what he truly is,” Baneri continues, apparently emboldened by your response. “I think few of the nobles in the court realized just what he was until they saw those powers. The fact that he was so strong just proves how—how filthy his blood is.”

You let yourself sink into the sopor slime, just down to your waist. You move very slowly. The cast on your arm is sealed against the slime and won’t be harmed.

“They all know it now,” you say.

“There are some who would like to thank you for giving the court a wakeup call,” Baneri says delicately.

You turn your head to look at her. The painkillers you’ve taken make your movements slow and drunken. She is staring at you solemnly.

“Yeah?” you say.

“If you’d like, they would wish to meet you tomorrow. Below the waterline.”

You hesitate, holding onto the edge of the recuperacoon. Your head throbs.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Tell ’em I’d like to meet.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Pesterlog excerpt:**

\-- adiio2Toreador [AT] began trolliing termiinallyCapriiciiou2 [TC] \--

AT: tINKERBULL IS DEAD,  
AT: uM,  
AT: yEAH,  
AT: tHAT'S ALL i HAVE TO SAY,

\-- adiio2Toreador [AT] cea2ed trolliing termiinallyCapriiciiou2 [TC] \--  


* * *

  
**Karkat**

If you never see another tree in your life, it will be too soon.

The forest ends at the edge of a field. You think it’s probably a farm. The field is planted with some sort of grain, and in the far distance you can see a hive. Probably a lowblood farmer. You and Tavros skirt the edge of the field. You figure if you walk far enough, you’ll eventually find a road.

Tavros has not said a word to you since the two of you left Tinkerbull behind. He’s not angry with you, you don’t think. He’s just silent and tired-looking, and he leans heavily on his walking stick. Once in a while his husktop chimes inside of his sylladex but he ignores it.

Your footsteps kick up dust. It coats your tongue and settles in the creases of your clothes. Insects hum in the fields. You take your last bottle of water out of your sylladex. Neither of you have any rations left. You glance toward the hive in the distance. If you’re sneaky, you might be able to break in there.

Your palmhusk vibrates. You pull it out of your sylladex.

\-- termiinallyCapriiciiou2 [TC] began trolliing carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

TC: HeY bEsT fRiEnD  
TC: mY tAvBrO wOn'T aNsWeR mE  
CG: HE’S NOT VERY TALKATIVE RIGHT NOW.  
TC: iS hE oKaY?  
CG: I GUESS? I MEAN, HE'S NOT TALKING MUCH TO ME EITHER.  
TC: :O(  
CG: HE'LL BE OKAY.  
CG: WE JUST LEFT THE GRUBLANDS.  
CG: I THINK WE MIGHT REACH THE TRAIN STATION BY TOMORROW.  
CG: I'M NOT SURE HOW WE'LL PAY FOR TICKETS THOUGH.  
CG: WE DON'T HAVE ENOUGH MONEY.  
TC: wHeRe ArE yOu RiGhT mOtHeRfUcKiNg NoW?  
CG: MIDDLE OF FUCKING NOWHERE.  
CG: ACCORDING TO THE MAP WE'RE ONLY THREE MILES FROM THE END OF ROUTE FIFTEEN.  
CG: I THINK WE CAN FOLLOW THAT FOR A FEW DAYS.  
TC: I cAn WoRk WiTh ThAt  
CG: YOU CAN WORK WITH WHAT?  
CG: GAMZEE?

\-- termiinallyCapriiciiou2 [TC] cea2ed trolliing carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

CG: GOD DAMN IT.

\-- carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] cea2ed trolliing termiinallyCapriiciiou2 [TC] \--

“Gamzee said he was trying to reach you,” you say to Tavros. He meets your gaze.

“You need to get something to cover your eyes,” he says.

“Uh. Yeah.” You look away self-consciously. “Maybe I can get glasses like Terezi or something.”

You’re both silent. You look toward the hive across the field again. Unlike in the grublands, there’s no curfew in effect here. Everyone out here is over eight sweeps. That means whoever lives in that hive is an actual adult. You have never been this close to an actual adult in your entire life.

The field ends abruptly at a paved road. On the other side of the road is another field, stretching endlessly. You both step onto the pavement. It’s cracked and crumbling here at the end of the line. To your right, it crumbles away into the underbrush. To your left, it arrows straight for the horizon.

Tavros breaths a sigh of relief when he gets onto the pavement. It’s pleasantly flat and so much easier to walk on than the uneven ground. You glance at your palmhusk again, scrolling through your chumproll. Sollux’s name is highlighted. He’s online.

\-- carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] began trolliing twiinArmageddon2 [TA] \--

CG: DID HE KILL YOU YET?

You realize that was probably tactless if in fact Eridan did kill Sollux and this is really Feferi or someone on Sollux’s account. But whatever.

TA: he triied.  
CG: SERIOUSLY? WHAT HAPPENED?  
TA: we dueled.  
TA: ii won.  
CG: HOW IS HE?  
TA: a2k hiim.  
CG: HE BLOCKED ME.  
TA: hell liive.  
CG: SOLLUX...  
CG: ARE YOU OKAY?  
TA: iim fiine.  
CG: YOU DON'T USUALLY GIVE ME TWO WORD RESPONSES. SOMETIMES YOU DON'T SHUT UP AT ALL.  
CG: ARE YOU HAVING ANOTHER EPISODE?  
TA: iim bu2y riight now.  
CG: FOUR WORDS. THAT'S AN IMPROVEMENT.  
TA: bye.

\-- twiinArmageddon2 [TA] cea2ed trolliing carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

That’s not a good sign. Back when you still had a normal life, you would harass Sollux into eating and sleeping when he wouldn’t do it on his own, but you can’t do that right now. You’d troll Feferi to make sure she’s on top of things but you’re pretty sure she and Sollux share a computer, and he’d probably be annoyed by your meddling.

You can’t tell if Eridan is online because he’s still blocking you. You’re worried, but, well, Sollux would have told you if Eridan had been killed.

Trying to troll him while you’re blocked is the equivalent of shouting soundlessly into the void, which is only marginally less productive than actually talking to Eridan himself. He’s so frustrating. You don’t even know why you keep talking to him except you always want to fix his stupid problems. It’s like some sort of compulsion. If you didn’t already have Gamzee, you’d think you were pale for Eridan.

You wonder if he still wants to meet with you. That thought leads back to the reminder that you really need to cover your irises. You could probably get a pair of sunglasses somewhere. It’s getting to be the dim season after all. You won’t even stand out if you wear them. As the sunlight hours grow longer, trolls stay awake closer and closer to sunrise, and sunglasses help prevent the headaches that come with twilight.

For a while it seems like you’re never going to leave these endless fields. You pass a few hives, which eventually start becoming closer together. After two hours, you even see a vehicular arthropod crawl by. You keep your eyes fixed on the road ahead of you, not daring to look at the trolls inside. It passes you without slowing.

“Wish we had one of those,” Tavros says, turning to watch it pass.

“Don’t look at it,” you hiss. “We don’t want to draw their attention.”

“Sorry.” He turns back around. He’s using his walking stick less on the solid ground, although he still needs it a bit. It’s seen better days. The bottom is starting to split.

You two must paint a pretty pathetic image, now that you think of it. You last managed to wash up two days ago at a stream with some soap that you had in your sylladex. Though you’d brought several changes of clothes, they’re all looking threadbare. Your hair is sticky with healing salve and congealed blood. Thankfully, your blood dries dark enough that no one can tell what color it is apart from “low”. You both have bags under your eyes since you haven’t seen a hint of sopor slime in far too long and the sleep you’ve managed to grab has been troubled. In short, you look like two trolls who’ve been on the run for twelve fucking days.

“We’ll be lucky if we don’t get picked up for vagrancy,” you say.

“Do you think they have recuperacoons in jail?” Tavros asks wistfully.

“Bet they have culling forks.”

You both pause, thinking.

“Might be worth it,” you add.

“Yeah.”

You lapse into silence again, although it’s slightly less tense than it was before. Tavros at least doesn’t look as shellshocked as he did.

It feels like you’re traveling more slowly now that you’re out of the woods. The landmarks out here in farm country are few and far between, and the horizon doesn’t get any closer.

An hour passes, then another. It’s been four hours since you left the forest. The hives grow scarce again and you reach another series of long fields of crops. The sky is beginning to warm to the east. Your FLARP maps don’t cover the adult country, obviously, so while you know the major roads, you don’t know where you might be able to find shelter.

“We’ll try to get shelter at the next hive we come to,” you say. “Maybe we can sneak into a barn.”

Tavros squints toward the horizon. “How long do we have?”

You take out your palmhusk and glance at it. “I think we have an hour before sunrise.” There will be almost two hours of sunlight today. Tomorrow there’ll be nearly three. Now that the dim season has started, you’re going to be seeing a lot more sunlight very soon.

Another vehicular arthropod appears in the distance. You wonder if it’s possible to steal one. Grand theft VA to round out your illustrious start to adulthood? At least you’d arrive in the Imperial City in style. However, most of the adults living around here are lowbloods, since this is farmland, so the VAs around here have seen better days. They might not even make it all the way to the city.

“Maybe we should turn back,” Tavros says. “We passed some hives.”

You look over your shoulder. The closest hive is a quarter mile behind you now. “Yeah,” you say grudgingly. You hate the idea of turning back, but there’s really not much choice. If you keep on the route you’re headed, it’ll be more than an hour before you get to any hives.

You both stop walking, exhausted. Tavros looks as enthusiastic about turning back as you feel. He’s moving slower and slower. You’ve both had a really fucking long night, on top of your pursuit by the imperial drones. You start back the way you came.

The engine of the VA behind you grows louder. You don’t look over your shoulder at it, although you are very aware of it. You know whoever’s inside is going to be staring at you and Tavros, trying to figure out what you’re doing out here. You’ve never felt this conspicuous before.

Tavros doesn’t look over his shoulder either, but you can tell that he’s paying attention to it too. When the VA's engine slows, he grabs your wrist in alarm.

The VA pulls around you both and stops a dozen feet down the road. It’s not like the dusty and scratched VAs that have passed you so far. It’s sleek and black and shiny, well fed and oiled.

You both freeze. Someone must have called the police when they saw you walking down the side of the road. Your mind is racing and your scythe is already out of your strife specibus. You should run, but where? Through the fields? Tavros will get left behind again and you can’t do that to him.

Then the driver’s side door opens and a troll unfolds himself from the seat. He has long, delicately curving horns, his hair is a mess of curly black tangles and his face is—his face—

“Gamzee?” Tavros says in utter shock.

The troll grins at you both, spreading his arms. “I motherfucking found you!”

The few dark, grainy webcam pictures you’ve seen of him haven’t done him justice. He’s tall and knife thin, and the greasepaint on his face has been reverently applied. He comes toward you in a long-legged stride and you nearly take a step back. You know he has the personality of a six week old puppy but he’s _nobility_ and it shows.

But he’s also your fucking moirail and so you stand your ground. Gamzee throws his arms around both of you, wrapping you both in a bone-crushing hug. You hug him back fiercely.

“I fucking thought the sun would beat me to you,” Gamzee says. “It was a motherfucking race.”

“It still might win,” you say, your voice muffled by his chest.

“Nah. The windows have some sort of motherfucking tint on them or something. I don’t even know how it works, but they fucking know when to go dark.”

He gives you a one-armed squeeze and plants a kiss on your forehead, then lets you go. You step back from him and Tavros to give them a moment of privacy.

You approach the VA instead. Your reflection in its shiny surface is worse than you’d thought. You brush a hand gingerly through your hair and then sneak a glance back at Gamzee and Tavros. They’re whispering to each other. As you watch, Gamzee leans down and kisses Tavros. You avert your eyes again.

You pull on the door handle of the VA, feeling the latch release. Muscle and tendon stretches as the door opens.

A VA is a living thing, but only technically. Tavros has his robotic legs but he’s still a troll. The vehicular arthropod, on the other hand, is an invertebrate animal that has had most of its inner workings replaced with robotics. It bleeds, and it eats, and it gets tired, but that’s all it has in common with what it once was. You don’t think it feels pain. You don’t think anyone’s ever cared to check.

The seat inside is smooth skin. It gives slightly when you sit on it. It’s warm to the touch, which is more than a little unnerving. The windows are already dimming as the sky brightens.

After a minute, Tavros comes around to the passenger’s side door and opens it, climbing in. Gamzee gets into the driver’s seat and then turns around to look at you.

“It’s four hours back to the city,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I up and drove that already once today, and I need a fucking rest before I do that again. We’ll get some food.”

“We don’t have a lot of money,” you say cautiously.

He waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about that, best friend,” he says. “I got more motherfucking caegars than I can give away.” He grins a little. “And my servants fucking hate it when I do that.”

He starts the VA and you settle exhaustedly into the seat as the engine rumbles. Gamzee pulls the car in a U-turn on the road.

“I didn’t even know you could drive,” you say.

He shrugs. “It’s not that hard. All you gotta do is sweet talk it a little. We’re friends now.” He pats the dashboard. “I can show you later if you want.”

“You, um, probably shouldn’t show Karkat,” Tavros says.

“I can sweet talk if I have to,” you say irritably.

“Sure you can,” Gamzee says agreeably. The VA gets turned around and starts scuttling back in the direction it came from.

It doesn’t take too long to get accustomed to the sway of the VA. The windows dim almost entirely as the sun breaches the horizon. The road through the windshield is dark and muted, leeched of color. You thumb through your contacts list on your palmhusk. Not many people online.

“Tav, give me your husktop,” you say. He automatically takes it out of his sylladex, then pauses.

“Really?” he says.

“Yeah, really, I need to—” You stop. “Uh, please?”

He smiles a little and passes the husktop back to you.

\-- adiio2Toreador [AT] began trolliing caliigula2Aquariium [CA] \--

AT: SOLLUX TOLD ME YOU DIDN'T DIE IN THE DUEL, BUT HE WON'T TELL ME ANYTHING ELSE, SO HOW ABOUT YOU FUCKING UNBLOCK ME AND TELL ME YOURSELF.  
AT: THIS IS KARKAT BY THE WAY.  
AT: OBVIOUSLY.

\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] ii2 iidle \--

You wait a few minutes for a response.

AT: I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY YOU'RE STILL BLOCKING ME.  
AT: YOU ONLY BLOCKED ME BECAUSE I TRIED TO STOP YOU FROM KILLING HIM AND NOW THAT THE DUEL’S OVER YOU DON’T HAVE TO CONTINUE WITH THESE RIDICULOUS HISTRIONICS.  
AT: WAIT, THAT WAS STUPID. I SHOULDN'T INSULT YOU WHEN I'M TRYING TO GET YOU TO UNBLOCK ME. IGNORE WHAT I SAID THERE.  
AT: BUT SERIOUSLY I WAS ONLY TRYING TO HELP. I DIDN'T WANT ANYONE TO GET HURT. YOU’RE BOTH MY FRIENDS AND I KNOW YOU HATE IT WHEN I SAY THAT BUT IT’S TRUE. I’VE KNOWN SOLLUX FOREVER AND I’VE NEVER MET YOU BUT I TALK TO YOU CONSTANTLY AND I DON’T WANT EITHER OF YOU TO DIE, ESPECIALLY DUE TO YOUR OWN FUCKING STUPIDITY.  
AT: THAT WAS ANOTHER INSULT.  
AT: SORRY.  
AT: UM.  
AT: PLEASE UNBLOCK ME.

\-- adiio2Toreador [AT] cea2ed trolliing caliigula2Aquariium [CA] \--

  


* * *

  


You actually end up driving for the whole two hours of daylight before you can find a restaurant that’s open. The sun is just setting again when Gamzee parks the VA at a small roadside diner. His VA is by far the most expensive vehicle in the lot. You and Tavros stay sprawled in your seats, yawning, while Gamzee goes inside to order some food. He returns with a few greasy paper bags. It’s lowblood fare, gristly cuts of fried meat and lots of salty, soggy fries, and it’s the best food you’ve had in your life.

“Does Terezi know we’re coming?” you ask, opening the bottle of soda that Gamzee had given you. It’s purple and fizzy.

Gamzee shrugs. He’s slouched against the door, his seat shoved all the way back, his feet up on the dashboard. He chews slowly on a fry. “She wasn’t online,” he says.

She’s still not, and neither is Nepeta. They’re probably both asleep. The two of them had pooled their resources to get an apartment together in the city. They’re both solidly mid-spectrum, and rooming together meant they could afford something pretty nice, with some extra space for a couple of fugitives from the law. But they aren’t expecting you both for another week and you’re still not sure how Terezi feels about, well, fugitives from the law.

“Could we go to your place?” you ask.

“Naw, man.” He reaches into the bag for another handful of fries. “Not gonna happen.”

“Why not?”

He licks salt off his thumb, his head still down. “They don’t motherfucking like—” There is the briefest pause. “—Strangers.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

His gaze shifts to you. His eyes are indigo. There is something in them that’s… Maybe the word you’re looking for here is ‘sober’?

“Um, how long until we get to the city?” Tavros cuts in. “I don’t, uh, want to make you have to drive too much.”

Gamzee slouches back against the door again. “I dunno. Another couple hours I guess.”

You can take a hint. You crumple up your empty paper back and toss it into the footwell. “You could teach me how to drive,” you say.

“Maybe later, little brother,” Gamzee says easily. His eyes are half-lidded again. “Right now I’m gonna eat these fries and get my chill on, and then we’re going to see where this road takes us.


	16. Chapter 16

**Pesterlog excerpt:**

\-- gho2tyTriick2ter [GT] began trolliing carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

GT: hi!  
GT: did you manage to convince your friend not to kill anyone?  
CG: NO ONE'S DEAD YET BUT I DON'T THINK I HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH THAT.  
GT: well... that’s good, i guess!  
GT: do you think it'll still happen?  
CG: THEY DUELED, AND SOLLUX WON, SO I DON'T THINK ERIDAN CAN TRY ANYTHING AGAIN. NOT LEGALLY.  
GT: who's sollux?  
CG: HE'S THE ONE WHO talk2 liike thii2.  
CG: WAIT NO I MEAN he talk2 iin thii2 ugly mu2tard yellow.  
CG: WOW THAT'S SO ANNOYING EVEN WHEN I'M THE ONE DOING IT.  
GT: i've never talked to him.  
CG: HERE'S SOME ADVICE: DON'T.  
GT: so... you can legally kill someone?  
CG: OF COURSE. WHY WOULDN'T YOU BE ABLE TO?  
GT: uh, because it's wrong?  
CG: WHY WOULD THAT BE WRONG? I MEAN, I DON'T WANT EITHER OF THEM TO DIE BECAUSE THIS WHOLE FIGHT IS FUCKING STUPID, BUT EVERYONE HAS TO KILL SOMEONE AT SOME POINT. IT’S A PART OF GROWING UP, ESPECIALLY FOR HIGHBLOODS. IT’S PRETTY MUCH EXPECTED THAT THEY'LL KILL A LOT OF TROLLS.  
GT: have you killed anyone?  
CG: NO.  
GT: do you want to?  
CG: I'M PREPARED TO DO THAT IF I HAVE TO. I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A THRESHECUTIONER AND KILLING IS KIND OF REQUIRED IN THAT JOB.  
GT: do you really think you’ll be able to do it?  
CG: I GUESS SO. BUT I'M NOT GOING TO BE A THRESHECUTIONER.  
GT: why not?  
CG: IT’S JUST A STUPID JOB. IT’S PROBABLY REALLY BORING. I’M GOING TO FIND SOMETHING BETTER.  
GT: it kinda sounds like you got rejected!  
CG: FUCK YOU. I DIDN'T APPLY.  
GT: why not?  
CG: BECAUSE  
CG: ...  
CG: ARE YOU REALLY A HUMAN?  
GT: yeah!  
GT: and i do believe that you’re really a troll!  
GT: or maybe i just really want to believe.  
CG: I’VE BEEN HAVING THESE DREAMS...  
CG: ANYWAY I DON'T KNOW, I GUESS I DON’T THINK YOU’RE THAT CRAZY ANYMORE.  
CG: OR MAYBE YOUR CRAZY IS CONTAGIOUS.  
CG: I CAN’T BE A THRESHECUTIONER BECAUSE MY BLOOD IS THE WRONG COLOR.  
GT: um... what color is it supposed to be?  
CG: LIME.  
GT: vriska was telling me something about this weird hemospectrum or whatever it's called.  
GT: but i don't really get it.  
GT: where is lime on the spectrum?  
CG: IT'S KIND OF LOW BUT NOT REALLY THAT BAD. THE BOTTOM THIRD, BUT NOT LIKE SLAVE LEVEL.  
GT: is that why you called me a blueblood when you first talked to me? because i type in blue?  
CG: YEAH.  
GT: does that mean your blood is really gray?  
CG: NO.  
GT: so what is it then?  
CG: IT’S SOMETHING THAT  
CG: FUCK.  
CG: I STILL CAN’T SAY IT.  
GT: why not?  
CG: IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY A TROLL, THEN IF I TELL YOU AND YOU TURN ME IN, I’LL BE CULLED.  
GT: why would they cull you?  
GT: i'm not going to turn you in!  
GT: i don’t know how i’d do that even if i wanted to, which i don’t.  
CG: BECAUSE...  
CG: I’M NOT ON THE SPECTRUM.  
CG: MY BLOOD COLOR JUST DOESN’T EXIST.  
CG: IT’S A MUTATION.  
GT: and that’s illegal?  
CG: YES.  
GT: that’s not fair. it’s just the way you were born!  
CG: GENETIC DEFECTS GET CULLED. THAT’S JUST HOW IT WORKS.  
GT: how do you know your blood is supposed to be lime?  
CG: THERE ARE A LOT OF PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS THAT MAKE UP EACH CASTE LEVEL. THAT’S JUST WHERE I FIT IN.  
GT: what would that look like?  
GT: if you typed in that color?  
CG: UM.  
CG: HOLD ON.  
CG: I GUESS IT WOULD LOOK LIKE THIS.  
CG: WOW, THAT'S WEIRD.  
GT: it's a nice color!  
CG: NO, THAT'S REALLY WEIRD.  
CG: OKAY, I'M DONE WITH THAT.  
GT: what would it look like if you typed in your real color?  
CG: EGBERT, IF I CAN'T TELL YOU, I SURE AS FUCK CAN'T ACTUALLY SHOW YOU.  
GT: karkat i don't care about the hemospectrum.  
CG: I KNOW BUT  
CG: IT'S REALLY, REALLY, REALLY IMPORTANT.  
CG: IT'S BASICALLY THE ONE DEFINING CHARACTERISTIC OF EVERY TROLL'S LIFE.  
GT: i guess i just don't understand.  
GT: blood color doesn't matter that much here since we're all the same.  
GT: skin color matters a lot more though.  
CG: YOU HAVE DIFFERENT SKIN COLORS?  
GT: yeah.  
CG: THAT'S REALLY BIZARRE.  
GT: i guess it would seem that way to you!  
CG: WHAT COLOR IS YOUR SKIN?  
GT: um.  
GT: i'm part korean and part polish and part a bunch of other things.  
GT: but i guess that doesn't actually mean anything to you.  
GT: my skin is kind of… pale yellowish pink?  
CG: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN IN YOUR CASTE SYSTEM?  
GT: we don't really have the same sort of caste system.  
GT: or i guess we used to, and it’s still kind of around today, but not officially.  
GT: historically paler skin would mean higher caste.  
GT: but that doesn't mean i'm high caste now.  
GT: i'm just sort of middle class.  
CG: WHAT COLOR IS YOUR BLOOD?  
GT: hehe.  
GT: it looks a lot like this.  
CG: UH.  
GT: yup! hehe that is weird to type in a different color. i feel like dave!  
GT: back to blue!  
GT: are you still there?  
GT: i guess that would make me low on your hemospectrum, wouldn't it?  
GT: karkat?  
GT: hello?  
CG: I'M STILL HERE.  
GT: so i told you mine! now tell me yours?  
CG: I GUESS WE HAVE MORE IN COMMON THAN I THOUGHT.  


* * *

  
**Tavros**

Once or twice in the past, you’ve seen pictures of Sollux’s hive stem. He lived clustered together with a lot of other young trolls in hivestems that all looked the same.

You think that probably that’s what you were picturing when you thought of the Imperial City. Instead, as the VA follows the last curve of the coast and the city opens up in front of you, you realize how completely wrong you were.

It’s old, first of all. You pass a series of sun-blistered hives on the edge of the city, all built nearly on top of each other. They look like generations of trolls have passed through them. Unlike in the grublands, where hives are razed once their occupants reach maturity in order to make room for the new hives of freshly hatched grubs, the buildings here long outlive their occupants, who are, after all, just passing through on their way to the Imperial Fleet.

It’s weird. You press your face to the window. Some of these hives could have been built hundreds of sweeps ago.

And there are so many trolls. It’s still early but there are already trolls out in the streets, opening up shops. A cluster of young bluebloods in uniform is headed to an academy. The road makes another turn, cutting toward the ocean again.

“Is that the palace?” you say in awe.

“The motherfucking one and only,” Gamzee says.

The palace rises out of the water like a cresting wave. The pale stone walls reach up to the sky in crenellated towers. Buttresses arch out like the ribcage of a massive animal. It’s slime-slick and water-worn and looks as if it’s been there for a thousand sweeps and will probably remain there a thousand more.  The heaving sea reveals the tips of more towers below the surface as the water rises and falls.

“Terezi’s awake,” Karkat says from the back seat. “She says we can come over.”

“Ask her where her hive is,” Gamzee says. “This city is a motherfucking maze. I get so turned around in here, I forget what I was looking for in the first motherfucking place.”

The VA follows a tree-lined avenue. The trees are just starting to bud, prompted by the increasing sunlight of the dim season. Not everything on this planet hates the sun.

The ancient, extravagant noble hives closest to the palace give way to expensive hivestems. You pass the Academy of the Imperial Ruffiannihilators and then a long, elegant building that you think might be the Guild of the Archeradicators. These are all places you’ve read about, but now for the first time you’re really here.

“Where do you live?” you ask.

“Back there.” Gamzee waves a hand lazily over his shoulder. You turn around to squint down the street but can’t tell which one might have been his.

“Turn right at the Officer’s College,” Karkat says, staring at his palmhusk. “And then turn left at the, uh, the place that smells like melons. A… melon store? No, wait, she means it’s painted green.”

You follow Terezi’s directions, and in only a few minutes you’re in a neighborhood full of sensible mid-spectrum hivestems. Gamzee finds a parking spot at the curb not far from the hivestem where Terezi and Nepeta live. When he shuts off the VA, you all sit there for a moment in silence.

“We’re here,” Karkat says. He sounds like he doesn’t quite believe it. “ _Fuck_.”

You peer out the window at the hivestems around you. They’re so tall. You’re here. Twelve—no, thirteen days of fleeing from the drones and now you’re here.

“Ready?” Gamzee says.

Karkat opens his door. “Let’s go,” he says.  


* * *

  
Terezi is exactly as you imagined her. Tiny, birdlike, with pointy red glasses and a wide, wide smile. Her hair is still wet from her ablutions and she’s wearing a dressing gown and fuzzy slippers.

“You’re a week early,” she says, and flings her arms around Karkat, squeezing him into a startled hug.

“Get off,” he grumbles, pink spots appearing in his cheeks. She laughs and squeezes him harder, then lets go.

“This moron drove out to get us,” Karkat says.

“I have a motherfucking VA so why the fuck not,” says Gamzee.

“Nepeta just woke up,” Terezi says. “Let me get my coffee.”

In a few minutes, you’re all in the recreation block. You and Gamzee sit together on the couch. It’s…weird being with Gamzee in person. You must have had a few hundred conversations over the couple of sweeps that you’ve known him, and so you feel like you know him really well, but there’s something so different about being here physically with him. You keep wanting to touch him, to make sure he’s really here. From the way he keeps glancing at you, you think he feels the same way.

Karkat sits on the other side of Gamzee and Terezi gets the chair. She perches on the edge of it, holding her coffee.

“I haven’t talked to Sollux,” she says. “I don’t know if he has your paperwork ready yet. You can’t get jobs without that. It would be dangerous to go out without them anyway, especially for Tavros.” She nods at you.

“Sollux said he can try to get Tavros special dispensation,” Karkat says. “So he doesn’t have to go into hard labor.”

Terezi yawns, showing a lot of teeth. “If someone stops him and he doesn’t have that paperwork with him, he can get thrown in jail.” Her focus shifts to Karkat. “You, too.”

“I don’t look like I’m that low,” Karkat says.

“Hmm.” She leans forward, her glasses pointed in his direction. “Not technically. But there’s something off about you. You’re too…” She shrugs. “Warm! Your heart beats too fast. You smell _red_.”

Karkat flushes. “Normal trolls wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“Maaaybe,” she says. “But what if they look twice and see your delicious candy eyes? They don’t need to make you bleed to figure out your blood runs rust.”

“I don’t want to be stuck in this apartment until Sollux gets his act together.”

“You shouldn’t risk it,” you tell him.

“You got a lot of motherfucking time in this city,” Gamzee says to Karkat. “Best not to be starting trouble you don’t motherfucking need.”

“I know,” Karkat says irritably. Gamzee rests a hand on Karkat’s shoulder and Karkat falls silent.

There is movement in the doorway leading to the respiteblocks, and then suddenly someone leaps onto the couch between you and Gamzee.

“Rowr!” Nepeta growls, grabbing your horn. “The mighty lion has caught her fursome prey!” She bites you on the ear.

“Ow.” You tug your ear and horn free. “Hi, Nepeta.”

“Hi!” she says. She wrinkles her nose when Gamzee pats her on the head. She grabs his hand and bites that too.

“Hey, my kitty cat sister,” Gamzee says cheerfully, completely unfazed.

“Mmph,” Nepeta mumbles around his hand.

“Nepeta and I can share a respiteblock,” Terezi says. “You’ll have to help us move my recuperacoon. We have an empty recuperacoon for one of you but we’ll have to buy another.”

“Oh god, sopor slime,” Karkat says. “How fast can we get it?”

“You can sleep in mine today,” Terezi says with a laugh.

Nepeta leans on you, letting go of Gamzee. “You can sleep in mine if you want,” she says to you. She keeps sneaking glances at Karkat.

“Thanks,” you say. She grins at you. Her eyes are bright green. Her irises are almost completely filled in with pigment, the furthest along that you’ve seen so far. She must have hatched early in the sweep, as opposed to Karkat who just barely made it in under the wire and is only just maturing.

Terezi stretches out her legs and drains the last of her coffee. “The ablution trap doesn’t get very hot but there’s plenty of water,” she says. “And you’d better use it before you even think about getting into my recuperacoon.”

“Dibs on the trap,” Karkat says immediately, getting up.

“I have to get ready for work.” Terezi stands up as well. “But when I come home later you’re going to tell me all about your trip.”

The next hour is spent moving Terezi’s full recuperacoon into Nepeta’s bedroom. When Karkat is done in the trap, you take your turn. The water might not be as hot as yours back home, but it’s better than using soap in a river. You scour off twelve days of traveling grime and rinse grit out of the joints of your robotic legs. You’re going to need a tune up, probably, although you hate to bother Equius. He did you enough of a favor just installing the legs. You don’t want to pester him with requests for another one. Maybe once you get a job, you can actually pay him.

When you are out of the trap and dried off, you dress in a pair of Terezi’s pajamas. You don’t own anything that hasn’t been worn at least twice since last being washed.

“They fit!” Nepeta says when you come out of the ablution block. “Well, sort off…” She squats down and pokes at the couple inches of metal ankle visible under the hem of the pants.

“I guess I need to wash my clothes,” you say in embarrassment.

“You can do that downstairs for a couple of caegars,” she says. She stands up again. She’s dressed in academy robes. There’s a long green panel in the front to denote her class.

“Where do you study?” you ask her.

“The Academy of the Bellicosmonauts,” she says brightly. “We learn paw-to-paw combat and basic ship meowntenance!”

“Do you like it?”

She shrugs. “They don’t let me use my claws,” she admits. “I miss hunting with Pounce de Leon.”

“Is she… did you leave her behind?”

She bites her lip. “She can take care of herself. She’ll purrobably be okay. Maybe she’ll find another wiggler to raise.”

You don’t say anything. Everyone seems to be in the respiteblock that used to be Terezi’s. There are bright swaths of cloth hanging from the walls and pillows in a riot of different colors on the floor, along with a lot of books and clothes.

“Get it out of your way if you need to,” Terezi says, standing in the middle of the mess on the floor. She’s holding her cane in one hand. “Move it to the other block. I don’t care. I’ll do something with it when I get back.”

“You haven’t even been here two weeks,” Karkat grumbles, nudging a stack of books with his foot. “How do you have so much crap?”

“I don’t know.” Terezi frowns down at the stuff. “It just sort of accumulates.”

Gamzee pokes his head out of the empty recuperacoon that’s sitting in the corner of the room. “Check the motherfucking acoustics on this, palebro. I’m gonna empty out mine when I get home. This is bitchin’.”

“Get out of the fucking recuperacoon,” Karkat says.

Gamzee spots you. “Tavbro, come and listen!”

You cross the room, listening to Karkat sigh gustily. “My horns won’t fit,” you say when you reach it.

“Aww, man, it’s awesome,” he says. You lean your elbows on the edge of the recuperacoon. He moves up and kisses you.

You hear Terezi cackle and you blush but you don’t pull back. Kissing Gamzee is pretty much the best thing in your entire life. But then you break apart and he smiles at you and nope, _that’s_ the best thing in your entire life.

“Karkat, it’s like one of your movies,” Terezi says. “Want me to get you some popgrubs?”

“Fuck off,” Karkat groans. “I’m going to sleep now.” He stalks out of the room. Terezi laughs again and then follows him out of the room.

“Nepeta, are you ready to go?” you hear her say.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep on your motherfucking feet,” Gamzee says, still looking up at you.

“I have to take care of my legs first,” you say. “I can’t let them rust. Are you, um, going back to your hive?”

Gamzee climbs out of the recuperacoon. It echoes hollowly as he crawls free. “Maybe once you get your sleep on,” he says.

You both return to the recreation block. Terezi is just pulling on her bright red coat.

“See you later!” Nepeta calls, and then the two of them head out the door. You hear Karkat moving around in the other respiteblock. He’s probably on his palmhusk again, trolling Eridan or something.

You sit down on the couch and decaptchalogue the oil and a rag from your sylladex, then tug one pant leg up to expose your knee. Gamzee sits down on the couch as well.

There’s a moment of awkward silence as you start to work on your knee. Despite the kiss earlier, now that you’re alone you don’t know if you can look at him.

“I, uh,” you say. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and still be in the woods.”

He pulls his legs up onto the couch and rests his elbows on his knees. “Pretty sure it’s motherfucking real, Tavbro,” he says. “As real as—as anything else is, I guess.”

“Thanks for picking us up.”

He shrugs and tips his head back against the couch. He looks tired, too. He hasn’t slept all night either.

“I’d have walked the whole motherfucking way with you if I could,” Gamzee says after a pause.

“But then you’d be a fugitive too,” you say. You finish your right knee and move onto your left. The metal is dull with scratches, but you’ve got the grit out and the joint moves smoothly now.

He shrugs again. His playful mood seems to be slowly sinking into something flat and exhausted.

“Is it…” You hesitate. “Is it that bad in your hive?”

There’s a longer pause. He turns his head to watch you work on your knee. When you finish that knee, stretching out your leg to test the joint, he captures your ankle gently in his hands and tugs your foot onto his lap.

“Can you feel this?” he asks, tapping your metal ankle.

“No.” You flex your ankle. He holds out a hand and you pass him the oil and rag. “I can move it but I can’t, uh, feel anything.”

The foot is the most delicate part of the leg machinery. Every toe is segmented. You have enough control over each of them to keep your balance. This has been the hardest part of walking to relearn. At the beginning, your control over the legs had been very basic—lift, lower, turn. But as your nerve endings grow accustomed to the robotics, you’re beginning to learn the more finely tuned movements like arching your foot or wiggling your toes. Just standing up without support requires hundreds of minute adjustments to your legs.

Gamzee begins oiling the tiny joints of your feet with a delicacy and precision that you wouldn’t have expected from him. He seems absorbed in the task. You know he’s only doing it because he doesn’t want to continue the conversation in the direction it was going.

“I kept thinking—” he says suddenly and you raise your head, looking at him. He looks startled, as if he hadn’t planned to say anything out loud.

“What?”

He pauses, then continues. “I kept thinking that every time we talked, it would be the last time. And it was so _motherfucking unfair._ ”

You draw breath to respond but he doesn’t stop.

“The fucking drones come and classify a brother and put you right into your little motherfucking box and if you don’t _fit_ then they fucking throw you away. And someone like _me_ with motherfucking indigo in my veins gets the fucking hive and servants and all the motherfucking shit that comes with that, and someone like _you_ gets whatever you can grab before someone tries to take it away. But we both come from the same _place_ , you know? We’re both from the same mother grub. The only difference between us is a motherfucking _accident._ ”

His hand is white-knuckled around your foot. You’d hug him if you could but you don’t want to try pulling yourself free right now so instead you stay where you are.

“If you weren’t, um, indigo, you wouldn’t have been able to get us,” you say carefully instead.

“If you weren’t _brown_ you wouldn’t need saving in the first place.”

There is the faintest shift in his tone. You almost wouldn’t notice it at all except that he’s staring at you now, direct and unblinking, and it’s… unnerving.

“It doesn’t matter though,” you say. “I’m here now. We’re both safe. It’s _fine_.”

“You’re going to die a thousand sweeps before I do,” Gamzee says.

“I know,” you say quietly. “It’s not—it’s not _fair_ , but that’s just—”

“You’re livestock,” he says. “They say that’s why you have such motherfucking short lifespans. You’ll never live long enough to make a motherfucking _difference_. You’re just here to work and propagate and die. I could have a dozen fudgeblood matesprits and they’ll all die before I motherfucking THINK about old age.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. You don’t know what to say. You don’t want to meet his gaze. You want him to let go of you. You want to hug him but you think maybe that’s not the best idea right now.

“What are you sorry for?” His voice is very quiet and even.

“I—” You stop.

“I said. What are you MOTHERFUCKING sorry for?”

You don’t know what he wants you to say. You tug at your foot and his grip tightens.

“Look at me,” he says.

You look at him. You have no choice. Every part of you wants to obey him. He could tell you to cull yourself and you would because every word he speaks has a heavy weight to it.

“Tell me why you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry for— I’m sorry that I’m going to die so soon,” you choke out.

He continues to stare at you. You can’t even tell if that was the answer he was looking for. You don’t know if he’s pleased or disappointed. “I’m sorry that you had to save us,” you say.

Still, he makes no response. Your chest is tight, as if the room is running out of air. You can’t look away from him.

“I’m sorry that I’m a fudgeblood.”

He reaches out a hand to your face. You stay frozen as he wipes the tip of a finger across your cheek. It comes away brown with your tears. He is completely expressionless.

“What the _fuck_.”

Karkat is there suddenly, grabbing Gamzee’s hand and pulling it away from your face. His sudden, angry presence is like a rush of fresh air into the room. You suck in a trembling breath and straighten up, breaking Gamzee’s gaze.

“Let go of him,” Karkat snaps at Gamzee. Gamzee’s gaze shifts to him but Karkat doesn’t back down, still holding Gamzee’s wrist.

“Gamzee,” Karkat says firmly.

Gamzee blinks, a confused furrow appearing between his brows.

“ _Gamzee_.”

He lets go of your ankle. You pull it away.

“I…” Gamzee stares down at his hand. “My head hurts,” he says dully.

“Shhh.” Karkat takes his other hand. “You haven’t slept. You’re just tired.”

Gamzee looks at you and his eyes widen fractionally. “I should go,” he says.

Karkat crawls onto his lap, pinning him down with his weight. “Just wait a minute,” he says. “Just wait.”

Gamzee stays tense, as if he’s going to shove Karkat away and get up.

Karkat glares at him. “No,” he says. “Just sit.” He leans in and kisses Gamzee, close-mouthed and chaste.

Gamzee sighs and then relaxes marginally against the couch again.

“I—” he starts again.

“I said no,” Karkat says.

Gamzee snorts and falls silent. Karkat studies him for a second, then shifts his attention to you. He doesn’t say anything and neither do you, but you know he must have heard the conversation from the other room.

“Sleep here,” Karkat says, turning back to Gamzee. “There’s room in Terezi’s recuperacoon and I don’t care what she thinks about it.

Gamzee slowly nods. Karkat lets go of Gamzee’s hand and leans in, wrapping his arms around Gamzee’s chest. Gamzee hugs him back.

“Okay, come on,” Karkat says after a moment, disentangling himself. He takes Gamzee’s hand again and tugs him to his feet. Gamzee lets himself be led. His shoulders are hunched. You shift on the couch, wanting to get up and follow, but you see his shoulders hunch further so you stay where you are. They both disappear into the respiteblock.

You wipe at your face, feeling hollow. Your chest hurts. You recover the oil and rag from where Gamzee left them and finish working on your feet. Your ankle is stiff from where he was holding it. He must have been twisting it. You hadn’t even known.

Finally there’s silence in the respiteblock. You captchalogue your oil and rag and roll down your pant cuffs and then sit on the couch a moment longer. You feel pretty terrible. In the last two weeks, every time you’ve felt terrible, you’ve been able to talk to Gamzee, and he’s always made you feel better, even though he was so far away. And now you’re with him in person for the first time and you can’t even talk to him and you hate it so much.

You force yourself to get up from the couch and enter the respiteblock. It’s silent, although you don’t think they’re asleep yet. They’re probably listening to you.

Nepeta’s recuperacoon is cooler than yours used to be, and you don’t fit into it well. You sink into the sopor as much as you can and close your eyes.

It takes you a long time to fall asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

**Pesterlog excerpt:**

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began trolliing gallow2Caliibrator [GC] \--

TG: hey  
TG: its five am and i couldnt sleep so i figured what can i do to make myself tired  
TG: oh yeah  
TG: i can try to read terezis obnoxious typing  
GC: OH H3Y LOOK 1TS TH3 D333L1C1OUS R3D T3XT D1CKB4G  
TG: youre not tz  
GC: WHAT GAVE IT AWAY?  
TG: for one thing shes got more creative insults  
GC: NO SHE DOESN’T. I AM THE KING OF CREATIVE INSULTS.  
TG: you are some sort of minor nobility of creative insults  
TG: the kind of minor nobility that doesnt even have land anymore and is desperately trying to marry into money  
GC: WOW SICK BURNS.  
GC: I AM SO HURT BY YOUR FORMIDABLE EFFORTS AT OFFENDING ME.  
GC: I CAN TELL YOU’RE TRYING SO HARD, LIKE A WIGGLER ON ITS BACK WITH ITS LITTLE LEGS WAVING IN THE AIR.  
GC: TRY HARDER, LITTLE WIGGLER.  
GC: YOU CAN DO IT.  
TG: i have to tell you dude youre not going to see me on my back  
TG: that just isnt going to happen  
TG: maybe tz will though if she asks me nice  
GC: WHOOPS IS THAT THE BLOCK BUTTON.  
GC: I THINK IT IS.

\-- gallow2Caliibrator [GC] ha2 blocked turntechGodhead [TG] \--  


* * *

  
 **Eridan**

Seawater sloshes around your ankles, slopping over the tops of your shoes. The toes of the shoes are webbed, the better for swimming in. You hate them. You’d rather go barefoot if you really have to swim, but you can’t exactly swim barefoot into this particular sharkpit.

You have sacrificed fashion for the oily, close-fitting clothes that the sea dwellers wear to go under water. As ugly as they are, it’s better than looking like a drowned rat when you get to the surface again. You do have pride, even though you seem to have left most of it on the floor of the dueling ring.

The stairwell is empty at the moment. No one is around to see your indecision. And it’s not that you’re indecisive. This is something that needs to be done, and if anyone’s going to be the one to do it, it’s you. It’s just that… Well. You can handle land dwellers. They’re distasteful and predictable and uniformly inferior. But sea dwellers are another story.

Your arm aches dully in its cast. You take a deep breath to calm your nerves and then you descend.

The cold water is a shock to the rarely-used gills on each side of your flank. Your next breath is like ice, and then you’re below the surface entirely. You let out the last of the air from your lungs in a stream of bubbles and your gills take over.

The water is too salty and rich, thick with a current of plankton. You almost choke on it. Your glasses are immediately useless so you take them off and tuck them in a pocket. The refraction of the water corrects your nearsightedness almost completely.

The stairwell continues only a few more steps before smoothing into a shaft. You let yourself sink, giving yourself a moment to get used to the increasing pressure.

A school of fish darts away underneath you. The shaft ends and a wide, round room opens up around you. You land on a marble floor.

Two sea dwellers swim past, ignoring you. You watch them head down a hallway. The walls here are set with open windows that let in the ocean currents. In the day, they probably let in diluted sunlight.

Your servant, Baneri, had given you directions to your arranged meeting with your mysterious admirers. Of course, there are no servants down here to help you find your way.

It’s oddly egalitarian here. Sea dwellers comprise the top two tiers of the hemospectrum, and Feferi is the only troll in the topmost. Every single troll down here carries the same purple blood in their veins as you.

You turn right, down one of the hallways, and begin to swim. You’re awkward at first. You’ve fallen out of the habit of swimming. When you were younger, you swam all the time. But the ocean is a big place, and the seatrolls who live there are a vicious, territorial bunch. Easier to be on the surface where you can keep an eye on your enemies, the land dwellers—and FLARP with them, and play games with them, and make immature attempts at kismesissitude with them.

You follow the hallway in its corkscrewing path further down into cooler, darker, heavier water. The walls ripple with long seaweed. An eel whisks through the grass, startled by your passing.

The hallway widens and debouches into a massive atrium, the roof of which is open to the sea. The walls are riddled with doorways like wormholes in driftwood. Here and there, more sea dwellers dart in and out of doorways, going about their business. You stop where you are, overwhelmed. Where are you even going?

“Ampora.”

You turn and look up. A troll floats over your head to your right. He’s an adult, at least ten sweeps. Both of his horns split and branch into Y shapes and he has a mouthful of fangs.

He sinks down to your level. “That duel was a disgrace.”

You shrug tightly. “Yeah, well fuck you.”

He actually smiles at that, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. He jerks his chin toward one of the doorways high in the atrium. “Let’s talk.”

He leads you up through the water. You wonder if Feferi is here somewhere. You don’t think so. She’d be suspicious if she saw you.

You pass through a doorway into a small, elegant room. A latticework of coral blocks off most of the room from view of the atrium. A radio housed in a metal case plays a slow, wandering song and leaches rust into the water. There are two other sea dwellers already in there, talking in low voices. The room tastes like seaweed.

The two sea dwellers break off talking as soon as you come in. The seatroll who led you into the room nods to them and turns the radio up slightly. The vibrations of noise through the water mask your voices.

“I’m Lodopi,” says the first troll to you. “This is Mekena and Wirsam.”

He’s only giving you their caste names, which is useless. Although each caste has an alphabet of symbols that numbers in the thousands, it only has a selection of a hundred or so surnames. None of the trolls are wearing visible symbols. You suddenly feel conscious of your own symbol, which is plainly visible, but it doesn’t matter. They all know who you are.

Mekena and Wirsam, too, are a bit older than you, probably around ten or eleven. Mekena’s fins are ruched at the edges. She has teeth like a shark and her gaze is too direct. Wirsam is taller and leaner, with a lazy, heavy-lidded somnolence in his eyes.

“Is it broken?” Mekena asks, looking at your arm. One of her horns is three pronged; the other, heavily chipped from some sort of fight. “I didn’t think… _psionics_ were strong enough for that.”

She says psionics like it’s a dirty word, which it is. Lodopi looks a little uncomfortable. Wirsam snorts.

“He’s really fuckin’ strong,” you say. “Some sorta mutation, I think.”

“Filth,” Wirsam mutters. “I’m surprised it wasn’t culled.”

“The drones favor strength,” Mekena says. “Usefulness trumps vulgarity every time. But that’s the nature of this antiquated system.”

“Mekena,” Lodopi says, a note of warning in his voice. All three of them shift their attention to you. You try to pretend that the undivided attention of three adult trolls is not really fucking unnerving.

“You’ve known the Heiress a while, haven’t you?” Mekena asks you, her tone suddenly mild.

“Yeah,” you say. “Since we were two. We, uh.” You almost start to say that you were moirails, but admitting that she dumped you is a little too humiliating. “We’re friends.”

“This whole situation is such a shame,” Mekena replies. “Of course, she’s the Heiress and she has my utmost respect. It would be above my station to pass judgement.”

“Of course,” Lodopi says. “None of us would ever criticize her.”

“It’s just that she’s, well, young,” Mekena continues. “She’s shrewd, of course. Very cunning. She is a descendent of Her Imperious Condescension, after all. But where the Condesce has the benefit of several hundred sweeps of experience, the Heiress has very little.”

“She’s not like the other Heiresses,” you say immediately. “She’s different. I think she’ll be the one to make it. I know she’s only eight but everyone starts somewhere. She has Gl'bgolyb on her side. None of the others had that.”

“Exactly,” Mekena says. “She’s the first real threat to the Condesce in a long time. That’s what makes this situation… tricky.”

You get where this is headed. If Feferi weren’t an actual threat to the Condesce, they wouldn’t mind Feferi’s pissblood matesprit and her anti-culling project. They could just have her assassinated, or wait for the Condesce to do it herself. But since Feferi has Gl'bgolyb, they have to take her as a serious threat.

“A lot of young trolls don’t understand the necessity of the hemospectrum,” Lodopi says. “We all grow up in the grublands, segregated by caste. No one gets taught their place until they reach adulthood. It’s a shame. Young trolls arrive in the city with improperly filled quadrants and ill-conceived ideas about equality.”

“That’s why the drones don’t come with the pails until you turn nine,” Mekena adds. “It gives you time to fix any quadrant mistakes you may have made, once you learn your place in society.” She hesitates delicately. “It’s not _uncommon_ to make a mistake, but it is particularly egregious in the case of our Heiress.”

“This isn’t really about Sollux, though, is it?” you say.

Mekena and Lodopi exchange a glance. Wirsam smiles slowly.

“Her choice of matesprit is a symptom,” he says.

“A symbol, more like,” Mekena says.

“I can’t exactly do anything about that, can I?” you say. “I mean, that’s what we’re here to talk about, right? I tried to get rid of him but I lost. The rules of the duel say that’s done. If I keep going, that’s fuckin’ _flirtation_.”

“We’re not asking that of you, certainly,” Mekena says.

“And believe me, I’ve tried talking her out of it,” you add.

“We know how to put a pissblood in its place,” Wirsam says. “It will be taken care of.”

The water seems to chill slightly. Mekena frowns at Wirsam, probably because he came out and said what she’d been dancing around.

“How are you gonna do that?” you ask.

“Advocating blood equality is treason,” Mekena says. “Naturally, the Heiress is not held to this law. But if there is evidence that the pissblood has been actively working on this cause, he can face the court.”

“Since when do you need _evidence_?” you scoff.

“It’s one thing to bring a pissblood up on charges of treason,” Mekena says sharply. “It’s another to do it to the Heiress’s matesprit. It will look like we’re directly attacking her, and that carries its own charge of treason. We need evidence so that this becomes a legal matter, not an act of insurrection.”

“And you wouldn’t be advocating _that_ ,” you say.

“Ampora,” Lodopi snaps. “Watch your mouth.”

You sneer but shut up.

“You’re her friend,” Mekena says. “All we’re asking is for you to get close and see if there’s any way you can prove that the pissblood is a blood traitor.”

You’re feeling supremely uncomfortable right now. “She, uh. She’s not a fan of me at the moment.”

“She knows you have to abide by the rules of the duel.”

“Yeah.” You scratch at one of your fins. You could tell them about the apiculture network right now and everything would be over for Sollux. For both of them. “I’ll, um. I’ll see what I can do.”

“We’ll meet again at the start of the light season,” Lodopi says. “You can tell us what you found then.”

“Okay.” You duck your head in a nod.

Mekena studies you. “You’ll go far, Ampora,” she says. “You’re smart. You understand what it takes to make this society strong. With a little support, I think you can become something great.”

There’s the bait. You’ve been waiting for it. You can turn in Sollux—and, by extension, Karkat and Tavros, who are relying on him—and in return you’ll have an alliance with three highly positioned trolls. And in the future, maybe they’ll have more little missions for you.

This is what seatrolls do. This is the lifeblood of the court. Alliances, espionage, intrigue, backstabbing. This is just how life works. They’ll make use of you, and you’ll make use of them, and if you play your cards right, you’ll end up on top. After sweeps of juvenile troll nonsense, it’s a little exciting to be inducted into the real world. And more than a little nauseating.

The meeting ends with as little fanfare as it began. You retreat from the room, across the expanse of the atrium, swimming fast and keeping your head down. You don’t want to run into Feferi or anyone else who might recognize you.

You find your way back to the stairwell. Your feet find the stairs and you push up through the surface of the water. Gravity reasserts itself and you stop halfway up, water streaming from your gills, swaying a little on your feet. You take a breath of air with your lungs and it tastes flat and stale and bland. Sound is tinny and hollow and everything seems garishly colored and sharp. You almost want to turn around and dive back in, but you don’t.

You return to your quarters and change out of your underwater clothes. You dismiss Baneri and open your husktop.

\-- caliigula2Aquariium [CA] ha2 unblocked carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG] \--

CA: howw many days until you get to the city  
CG: THERE YOU FUCKING ARE. IT'S ABOUT TIME.  
CG: YOU CAN’T JUST BLOCK ME LIKE THAT AFTER TELLING ME YOU’RE GOING TO KILL SOMEONE.  
CA: aww kar wwere you wworried  
CG: FUCK YOU.  
CG: I WASN’T WORRIED. I WAS CURIOUS.  
CA: you knoww kar i havve all these messages from tavv  
CA: hes doin a reely good impression of you  
CA: he sounds kinda wworried about me  
CA: maybe i should go talk to him instead  
CG: OKAY FINE, MAYBE I WAS A LITTLE WORRIED. WHAT HAPPENED? HE TOLD ME YOU LOST.  
CA: i got distracted at the wwrong moment  
CA: i wwould of wwon otherwwise  
CG: HOW ARE YOU NOT A SCORCH MARK ON THE FLOOR?  
CA: hes not that strong kar  
CA: he did break my arm though  
CG: THAT’S PROBABLY LESS THAN YOU DESERVE.  
CA: fuck you  
CG: WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW?  
CA: wwhen do you get to the city  
CG: I GOT HERE YESTERDAY.  
CA: wwait  
CA: reely  
CG: YEAH, “REELY”. GAMZEE PICKED US UP. IT WOULD HAVE TAKEN US ANOTHER WEEK OTHERWISE.  
CA: wwhere are you stayin  
CG: WITH TEREZI AND NEPETA. OH GOD, ERIDAN. IT’S INSANE HERE. NEPETA WON’T EVEN LOOK AT ME AND TEREZI KEEPS FINDING EXCUSES TO LICK ME.  
CA: nep likes you  
CG: YEAH THAT’S REALLY FUCKING OBVIOUS. SHE’LL GET OVER IT EVENTUALLY, RIGHT? IT’S GETTING KIND OF AWKWARD.  
CA: are you and ter  
CA: you know  
CA: gettin red  
CG: I DON’T KNOW.  
CA: i thought you liked her  
CG: I DO BUT  
CG: I DON’T KNOW.  
CG: IT’S JUST COMPLICATED.  
CG: I THINK SHE LIKES SOMEONE ELSE.  
CA: wwho  
CG: JUST SOME DOUCHEBAG.  
CA: did you still wwant to meet  
CG: I THOUGHT YOU SAID IT WAS A BAD IDEA.  
CA: i wwas upset  
CA: i think i wwant to meet noww though  
CG: NOW LIKE TODAY?  
CA: shore  
CG: OH GOD NO FISH PUNS. I FUCKING HATE FISH PUNS.  
CA: sure  
CG: I CAN’T REALLY LEAVE THE APARTMENT UNTIL I GET MY PAPERS FROM SOLLUX. DO YOU WANT TO COME HERE?  
CA: wwhen is he gonna finish your papers  
CG: I DON’T KNOW. HE HAS ALL SORTS OF SHIT THAT HE’S DEALING WITH, LIKE ASSHOLES CHALLENGING HIM TO DUELS AND THAT SORT OF THING.  
CG: PLUS THE WHOLE, YOU KNOW, WORKING TO FUNDAMENTALLY CHANGE TROLL SOCIETY.  
CA: you shouldnt say that  
CG: SAY WHAT? WE’RE ON TROLLIIANEXIILE. NO ONE CAN OVERHEAR US.  
CA: wwhat if someone finds out about the netwwork  
CG: WHO’S GOING TO TELL THEM? NOT YOU, I HOPE.  
CA: no  
CG: YOU WOULDN’T BE THAT STUPID. NOT JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE JEALOUS OF SOLLUX. YOU LOST, REMEMBER? HE’S STRONGER. GET OVER IT.  
CA: that wwas a fluke  
CG: ...  
CG: IS THAT A FISH PUN? THAT’S A FISH PUN, ISN'T IT?  
CA: that wwas an EXTREMELY UNLIKELY EVVENT  
CA: hes not fuckin superior to me in anyfin  
CA: anythin  
CA: i havve a feelin theyre not gonna succeed  
CA: the wwhole project is gonna  
CG: IT’S GOING TO WHAT?  
CA: im tryin to think of a wword other than flounder  
CG: JESUS FUCK.  
CA: wwhen it does this wwhole netwwork could go  
CA: so just be careful wwhat you say  
CA: its treason  
CG: I HAVE NEVER HEARD YOU THIS PARANOID.  
CA: wwhatevver  
CA: you knoww im right  
CG: YOU SURE YOU WANT TO RUN THE RISK OF BEING SEEN WITH A FUGITIVE FROM THE LAW?  
CA: ill wwear a disguise  
CG: I WAS JOKING.  
CA: i dont knoww wwhere ter livves  
CG: WE’RE NOT FAR FROM THE OFFICER’S COLLEGE. I DON’T KNOW THE EXACT ADDRESS BUT I’LL ASK TEREZI.  
CA: ok  
CG: ERIDAN.  
CA: wwhat  
CG: JUST  
CG: DON’T FREAK OUT.  
CA: yeah

He gives you the address. You haven’t been to that part of the city before. It’s pretty far out of the noble quarter.

You go through all of your clothes. You own very little that can pass for middle class. The best you can do is find things that aren’t overtly royal. You remove most of your rings and you wrap a scarf around your neck, carefully folding your fins flat. You can’t do much about the streak in your hair, or the color of your eyes, but if you cover your sea dweller traits you can probably pass for a secular indigo. You cover your caste symbol.

This is really sudden. It’s probably a bad idea. You and Kar have been talking about meeting for such a long time, but you didn’t even think it was going to be a possibility for another week, and things are suddenly a lot more complicated than they used to be.

It’s just really hard to think about meeting up with Kar right now, when you’ve just met with trolls who are planning to murder someone for being quadranted too far out of his caste. And okay, you’re _not_ quadranted with Kar—you even rejected his ashen advances—but you’re really close friends and sometimes you think you’re a little flushed for him. Maybe. Fuck.

You think maybe you want him to convince you not to go through with this plan.

You take a circuitous route from the palace. You don’t think you’re being followed—you’re not _that_ paranoid—but you don’t want anyone to see you come from the palace so instead you wander around the noble quarter a bit, hands in your pockets, before you start walking toward the academies.

VA exhaust mingles with fresh salty air. A group of greens steps out of your way as you pass. It’s around lunch time so most people are going about their day jobs. You will start at the military academy in another week.

Terezi’s building has no doorman. Instead it has a row of buzzers for each apartment. You find the one marked PYROPE/LEIJON and press it. Someone buzzes you in without bothering to ask who you are. You push the door open.

They live on the eighth floor. You take the elevator. You only hesitate a moment before you knock on the door.

The troll who answers the door is shorter than you and has the most pathetic, nubby little horns you’ve ever seen. He starts talking as soon as he opens the door. “Did someone relocate the palace to the grublands without telling me? Because it should not have taken you that fucking long to get here.”

You stare at him. “Sunglasses, Kar? Seriously?”

“Fuck you,” Karkat says.

He’s attractive in an angry sort of way. He’s wearing dark sunglasses that you’re pretty sure Terezi must have bought him. His hair is a flyaway tangle which mostly conceals a healing scar down the middle of his scalp. One of his horns is chipped; not deep enough to reach the bone under the keratin, but still pretty deep.

“You know,” you say, “if you cut your hair you can probably make them look longer.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” he says, turning away from you. He stalks into the apartment. You follow him and shut the door behind yourself.

The apartment is smaller than you had expected. He leads you into the recreation block. Through a few open doorways you can see a kitchen and two respiteblocks, but that seems to be nearly it. “Four of you live here?” you say.

“Yeah, well it’s not exactly the palace,” he says. “Terezi and Nepeta are out but Tavros is here. Tav!”

You think, from the way that he doesn’t want to look at you, that he must be nervous too, and that makes you feel better. There is a noise in one of the respiteblocks and then Tavros appears in the doorway. He’s fairly obviously a lowblood, not just in the color of his irises but also the slightly wide set to his eyes and the softness in his features. He has a floppy, overgrown mohawk.

“Um, hello,” he says. He doesn’t look terribly happy to see you.

“Hi,” you say, and then dismiss him entirely, turning back to Karkat. Comparing the two of them, it’s still hard to tell where Karkat falls on the spectrum. You might guess he was somewhere in the greens from his bone structure, but he’s shorter than the average green, more wiry. He’s one big question mark.

“We were setting up the last recuperacoon,” Karkat says. “We bought one last night.” He flops down onto the couch. “Did you know how expensive sopor slime is? It’s insane.”

You shrug. “Never had to buy any,” you say.

Tavros shoots Karkat a look and Karkat glowers at him. Tavros hesitates, then disappears back into the block. You sit down on the opposite end of the couch. Karkat’s studying you again. He pulls his legs up onto the couch to sit cross-legged and face you.

“So, um,” he says. “Hi.”

“You’re not really what I imagined,” you say. At his immediate angry inhale you add, “No, shut up, that wasn’t an _insult_.”

“Wait, so you imagined someone uglier?” he says.

“Oh, just shut up, Kar.”

“Can I see your fins?” he says.

You shrug and unravel your scarf. You’re kind of proud of your fins, actually. They’re scalloped and streamlined and flushed purple between the spines.

“I’ve never met a sea dweller before,” Karkat says, staring at them. He looks like he wants to touch them but would never in a million sweeps actually ask.

“Yeah well we don’t usually visit lowbloods so I can’t see why you _would_ ,” you reply.

“I can’t see why I’d _ever want to again._ ”

“What? Of course you would. These fins are fuckin’ hot.”

Karkat actually laughs, a little snort of noise that’s really kind of adorable. His gaze drops to the cast on your arm. “That’s what Sollux did?”

“That was all he could manage.”

“I’ve seen his powers before. He could have done worse. I mean, look at _Aradia._ ”

“I guess I’m just that good in a fight.”

“Wish I could have seen _that_.”

“You’da been so impressed.”

You like the way the corners of his mouth quirk when he’s trying to hide his amusement. You’ve almost made him laugh twice in two minutes. You realize you really want to keep doing that, and close on the heels of that realization is the knowledge that maybe you’re a little more flushed for him than you originally suspected.

You haven’t made Feferi laugh in such a long time. Most of your time with her is spent trying not to upset her, and mostly failing at that task.

“Kar,” you say, and then hesitate. You toy with the scarf bunched in your hands.

He raises his eyebrows. You can see your own reflection in his sunglasses. “Yeah?”

“Tell me why you think Sollux and Feferi are right.”

You don’t think that’s what he was expecting you to say. His expression flickers and then settles on irritation.

“Is this about me choosing sides again? Because I’m on your side, Eridan, I told you.”

“No, look.” You hold up quelling hands. “It’s not really about that.”

“The thing with Sollux is over.”

“I know. Just—I want to know why you think they’re… you know, doing the right thing or whatever.”

“I don’t know how you _can’t_ see that,” he says. “Look, I know you think that society would collapse if weak genetic material got into the slurry but how can you possibly agree that trolls should be enslaved just because of their blood color? How can you think that it’s a good thing to cull trolls for the slightest offense?”

“I’m not sayin’ it’s a _good_ thing,” you say. “I mean, it’s not like I want my friends to be culled! But just because it’s _bad_ doesn’t mean it isn’t _necessary._ ”

“Tell me how slavery is necessary.”

“Because lowbloods are—” You cut yourself off and start again. “We’re a conquering nation, Kar. How can we have an Imperial Fleet without helmsmen? Without an Imperial Fleet, the tables would turn really fuckin’ fast.”

“What about having helmsmen who are capable of consenting?”

“No one in their right mind would consent to that,” you scoff. “Are you insane? Having your body cut up and permanently installed into a ship?”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have to cut them into pieces and wire them into the ship if they actually _wanted_ to do their jobs!” Karkat’s voice is just as heated as yours.

“How can you trust the strength of the fleet—not just that but the integrity of our fuckin’ _society_ —to the whims of a bunch of pissbloods?”

“What makes you think they’d want us to be conquered any more than you do? They’re trolls too, Eridan.”

“Yeah, they’re trolls,” you say. “But why would _anyone_ put themselves in such a shitty position—piloting a ship or workin’ in the fuckin’ factories or doin’ any of the other things slaves do—just for the benefit of _other trolls_? Why fuckin’ help anyone if you don’t _have_ to?”

Karkat opens his mouth to respond but can’t seem to find the words. You don’t think you’ve ever struck him speechless before.

“I’m not sayin’ you’re wrong,” you add, more quietly. “I just want you to give me a good reason.”

“Maybe—” Kar starts. He pauses to gather his thoughts. “You know how many people helped me and Tavros get to this city? Aradia got Equius to build Tavros a pair of legs. Sollux set up that whole network just for us. Nepeta and Terezi are letting us stay with them. All of you are keeping this a secret, even though it puts all of you in danger. You could _all_ get culled for helping me. So _why are you all helping me_?”

“Because we _know_ you,” you reply.

“Are you getting anything out of helping me?”

“Yeah. A fuckload of advice.”

“Is that worth it? Putting yourself in danger in exchange for some _quadrant advice_?”

“I’m helping you because it’s _you_ ,” you say. “I wouldn’t do the same thing if it was Tavros or Aradia or whoever.”

“Yeah but someone would, wouldn’t they? Everyone has someone who doesn’t want to see them get culled. Maybe you don’t care about every single troll but you care about some of them, and maybe that’s the reason why you would do things you don’t want to do. If you just _force_ people to do things, you’re just making their lives miserable and you’re making them hate you. But everyone has a reason to help.” He looks down at his hands, then up at you again. “And if you treat trolls like equals, even if they don’t have a pair of working legs or whatever, then if someday someone mind controls you to jump off a cliff, maybe you’ll be able to get help too.”

“But.” You scratch at your fin. “Okay. I guess that’s a good point. I mean I coulda been crippled in that duel and I don’t want to be culled just for that. But Kar, trolls aren’t _equals._ ”

“They could be.”

“But they’re not! You’re saying this like the only difference between me and you is the color of our blood but it’s _not_. It’s not just blood. You’re physically weaker. You’re mentally d—different. Lowbloods don’t think like highbloods. You don’t get as bloodthirsty. You have psychic powers. You don’t even live as long. Those aren’t just superficial differences.”

“But how does that make you _better_? We’re physically weaker but we’re psychically stronger. We don’t live as long as you but there are a lot more of us than you. Our genes make it out of the slurry a lot more often than yours.”

“If we weren’t better than you, why are we on top of the hemospectrum? How did we get there in the first place?”

Karkat groans and puts his face in his hands. “Oh, fuck this,” he says.

“No, but I’m serious. Don’t you think if rustbloods were equal to bluebloods, society would _already_ be even?”

He sighs and lowers his hands. He looks like he’s seriously considering your question.

“You can’t say that highbloods are naturally superior while you’re spending all of your time making sure lowbloods aren’t allowed any power at all. End slavery. Let the lowbloods get a chance to have real lives. Then see how society shapes itself.”

“If the balance of power shifted, you’d do the same thing to us.”

“If you’re naturally stronger, what do you have to worry about?”

You’re silent, looking down at the scarf in your hands. You don’t know how to answer him, although you’re still not very satisfied with his argument. If you let Feferi and Sollux continue with their project, could they seriously change the world? And would that be a good thing? You can’t even _comprehend_ living in a world where you and a rustblood could get the same service at a restaurant, or could both be the same rank on a ship, or could go to the same academy. It’s so far from your experience that it’s laughable. And you’re pretty sure that it’s far outside of Feferi’s reach.

And the harsh reality is, you may really care for Karkat, but he’s not going to live as long as you. In two hundred sweeps he’ll be long dead and past the point of caring about social change, but you’ll still have to live in the world he’s wrought.

“I don’t expect to change your mind overnight,” he says. “But could you… try to think about it?”

“I can try,” you say carefully.

“Thanks,” he says.

You look up at him. He’s watching you. You can’t read his expression right now. You search his face again, looking for some sign of his real blood color. After all this, it _shouldn’t_ be important, but it still is.

“Would it make you happy if I joined your cause?” you say.

He hesitates and there’s that not-smile again, right at the corners of his mouth. “It would make me happier if you didn’t just do it because of me,” he said. “But it would be a start.”

You bite your lower lip. “Kar,” you start slowly. “I—”

“Do you want, um. Something to drink?” He abruptly unwinds himself from the couch, getting to his feet. You stare at him blankly and then catch his glance toward the respiteblock door. It hadn’t occurred to you until just now, but Tavros must still be within earshot. He’s probably heard your entire conversation.

“Uh, I guess?” You rise awkwardly to your feet too. Karkat heads into the culinary block and you follow him.

It’s small in here, with a tiny table and four chairs crammed against one wall, and the rest of the room taken up by counter space and the refrigerator and a stove.

Karkat opens the cupboard, looking for glasses. “What do you want?”

“Water’s fine,” you say. He fills a glass at the sink and holds it out to you. You take the glass and then, with your other hand, you take hold of his.

His palm is hot in your hand, hotter than anyone you’ve touched before. Too warm to be anything higher than brown. He pulls his hand out of your grip immediately and you let him.

“Why keep hiding it?” you ask.

“Fuck you,” he says, retreating a step to the counter. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

You put the glass down but don’t approach him. “Are you trying to prove a point? You want to keep me from judging you on your blood color?”

“ _Why does it matter_.”

“You haven’t changed society yet. It still matters.”

He lets out an irritated huff of air. “Is it going to change how you think of me?”

“No.” You’re not nearly as confident in that as you sound, but you say it anyway.

“Then why do you need to know?”

“If you don’t think blood color should matter, why hide yours?”

“Because—” He crosses his arms defensively over his chest. “Because I know it’s going to change what you think of me.”

“I know you have to be a rustblood.”

“Rustblood,” Karkat says, spitting out the word. “Pissblood. Fudgeblood. The fact that you even use those words—”

“Warmblood,” you say. “I know you’re a _warmblood_. But I still like you, Karkat. I mean I—you’re my friend, and I don’t think that’s gonna change. Maybe I don’t necessarily agree with your politics but I’ve known you for _forever_ and I like you and I don’t think knowin’ your caste is gonna stop me being friends with you.”

“Then it doesn’t make a difference if I tell you or not!”

“But it _does_ ,” you say. “Because if you can’t tell me it means you don’t trust me.”

It’s his turn to be silent. His shoulders are tense and he’s looking down at the floor.

“I already trust you,” he says quietly. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have let you come here today.”

You wait. You know you’re putting him on the spot and you feel a little guilty about it, but on the other hand, you really want to know.

“Can you promise that even if my blood is—even if it’s lower than you thought, you’ll still think about it before you do anything drastic?” he asks.

“You’re scarin’ me.”

“Fuck,” he mutters. “I know, I just… You’re the only person I actually _like_ who cares so much about the spectrum.”

“I, um.” This is so awkward. You can’t even believe you’re saying this. “I really like you, Kar.”

“I know,” he says.

That’s not even an answer. Did he not get what you meant? But you think he did. He’s watching you and you don’t know what to say, so instead you just step forward. He doesn’t move away. You reach up a hand and he doesn’t stop you as you gently tug the sunglasses off his face.

At first you don’t even know what you’re looking at. Then it registers and you recoil. You’re still holding his sunglasses. You drop them.

“Eridan—” Karkat says. It doesn’t sound like he knows how to continue.

“You’re a mutant?” you say. It’s an accusation. “You’re not even—you’re not even on the—”

“Just calm down,” he says. “It doesn’t change anything, remember? You said it wouldn’t.”

“I thought you were a rustblood when I said that!” you say. Your voice is a little louder than it should be. You see him wince.

“Just wait,” he says. “Wait. Let me just explain—”

He takes a step toward you and you step back. He freezes. He’s looking a little panicked now, but probably not half as panicked as you are.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I just can’t—I have to go.” You retreat to the door.

“Wait,” he begs.

“I—” you start, and then you don’t know what else to say so you just turn and leave. He doesn’t follow you.


	18. Chapter 18

**Pesterlog excerpt:**

\-- adiio2Toreador [AT] began trolliing termiinallyCapriiciiou2 [TC] \--

AT: hEY,  
AT: aRE YOU THERE,  
AT: i'M NOT ANGRY WITH YOU,  
AT: i KNOW YOU WERE TIRED, aND UPSET,  
AT: aND i SAID THE WRONG THING,  
TC: No TaVbRo, It WaSn'T yOuR mOtHeRfUcKiNg FaUlt  
TC: DoN't YoU bE tHiNkInG iT hAd AnYtHiNg To Do WiTh SoMeThInG yOu DiD  
AT: i'M STILL SORRY, tHOUGH,  
AT: bECAUSE i KNOW, iT’S NOT FAIR,  
AT: iF i WERE YOU, aND i KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO DIE, lONG BEFORE i DID,  
AT: i WOULD, bE UPSET TOO,  
AT: i WISH, i COULD BE,  
AT: hIGHER CASTE, fOR YOU,  
TC: don’t you say that  
TC: DON’T YOU MOTHERFUCKING SAY THAT  
TC: I dOn'T wAnT aNyOnE hIgHeR cAsTe  
TC: i JuSt WaNt YoU  
TC: It'S jUsT tHaT tHiNgS gEt MoThErFuCkInG jUmBlEd Up SoMeTiMeS iN mY tHiNkPaN  
TC: AnD tHe TrOlLs KeEp ViSiTiNg My HiVe AnD tElLiNg Me ShIt I dOn'T wAnT tO hEaR  
TC: AbOuT SuBjUgGlAtIoN aNd LoWbLoOdS aNd ShIt LiKe ThAt  
TC: AnD tHeY dOn'T lEt Me BaKe  
TC: and it doesn't  
TC: HELP  
TC: this pain in my head  
AT: mAYBE YOU COULD, vISIT MORE OFTEN,  
AT: oR SPEND THE DAY SOMETIMES,  
AT: oR MAYBE SPEND A LOT OF DAYS,  
AT: wITH ME,  
AT: sO YOU DON'T HAVE TO LISTEN, tO THEM, aS MUCH,  
TC: i ThInK mAyBe ThAt'S nOt A mOtHeRfUcKiNg GoOd IdEa.  
TC: I mIgHt GeT mY mOtHeRfUcKiNg SuBjUgGlAtIoN oN aGaIn  
AT: kARKAT STOPPED YOU, bEFORE,  
AT: aND MAYBE YOU WON'T WANT TO, aS MUCH, wHEN YOU SPEND LESS TIME WITH THEM,  
AT: mAYBE THINGS WILL GO BACK TO, tHE WAY THEY WERE,  
TC: TaVbRo, YoU aRe ThE bEsT mOtHeRfUcKiNg BrO a TrOlL cOuLd HaVe  
TC: <3  
AT: <3  
TC: but  
AT: bUT WHAT,  
TC: I DON'T MOTHERFUCKING THINK  
TC: things can go back to the way they were  


* * *

  
**Feferi**

Being the Heiress to the Alternian Empire is hard sometimes.

You wake up in the sopor slime, your head pressed against Sollux’s shoulder. He’s still asleep, but you’re not really surprised. He’s been sleeping a lot in the last two days. If he keeps this up, you’re going to have to start dragging him out of the recuperacoon to make sure the sopor slime doesn’t start messing with his thinkpan. Too much of that can’t possibly be a good thing. Just look at Gamzee.

Technically Sollux should be up well before you, preparing the room for your evening, but you told him at the start that you’ve gone your whole life without servants and you really don’t care enough to start now.

You kiss his bony shoulder and then rise from the slime, climbing out of the recuperacoon. The towel is crumpled on the floor where you left it yesterday. You dry yourself and then hang it back on its hook on the side of the recuperacoon before you cross the room to your ablution block.

Living above the water is so bizarre. If you were still in your castle under the waves, the sopor slime would just slide right off you. It’s heavier than water and insoluble, and it would just pour off you as you rose. But here in the air, it clings to your skin, drying in gummy clumps if you leave it too long.

The water in the shower is salty and warm. You close your eyes and lean into the spray, absorbing the warmth into your cool skin. It wakes you up faster than anything else could. Eridan used to try to get you to drink coffee, telling you how wonderful caffeine was, but you’re pretty sure it was the warmth of it that woke him up more than the caffeine did.

Thinking of Eridan makes you unhappy, so you stop.

When you’re slime-free, you step out of the shower. You’re hungry, but you can’t exactly leave to find food right now. Ugh, there are so many stupid RUL-ES. You can’t get your own breakfast. If you get it, it means your slave didn’t do his duty and get it for you, and people will start getting suspicious. They don’t understand that sometimes Sollux CAN'T do his duty. Sometimes Sollux can't get out of the recuperacoon, and he only talks to you in monosyllables, and he gets angry at everything.

You always knew he had these moods, but this is the first time you’ve seen them in person, and it’s kind of scaring you.

You return to the recuperacoon, still dripping wet. You lean over the opening and reach in, stroking his forehead.

“Sollux,” you whisper. “I’m going for a swim.”

He mumbles something indistinct. You let your hand linger a moment. You wish you could just fix his brain. You wish you could fix -EVERYON-E. Just take on ALL the problems and wipe them out. But you can’t.

All you can do is slow Sollux down a little. He’s aging faster than you already. It’s barely noticeable when you’re only eight sweeps, but in another couple sweeps it’s going to speed up. By the time you reach full adulthood at fifty sweeps, he’ll be well into the prime of his life. By the time you’re one hundred, he’ll be in decline. By the time you’re three hundred, you’ll have spent more of your life without him than with him. No matter how long you live, you will never grow old, and in a thousand sweeps, your time here with Sollux be only the faintest memory.

Unless you slow him down, and so that’s what you do. Brush your fingers over his forehead and tamp down on those lengthening horns. Freeze his eyes where they’re still only starting to turn yellow. Feel his bones where they’re starting to grow and force them to stay young and supple. He’s your matesprit and you’re not going to let him grow up. Not without you.

  


* * *

  


You have trolls now who feed Gl’bgolyb for you, dropping dead lusi into the abyss. But you still visit your horrorterror lusus every night. The heavy pressure of the abyssal depths is familiar to you, bringing back memories of your pupation and your dark, lightless youth, before you grew enough to swim closer to the surface.

Gl'bgolyb’s voice is always in the back of your head, a faint murmur, but it increases as you get closer. You think, _I’m coming, hello, I’m here, I’m here, I’m on my way_ and in your head you hear  darkheavyhungrylonelyreliefhellomydaughterhellohellohello

The first of Gl'bgolyb’s tentacles reaches out to you. You’re still miles from her beak and her wide blind eyes but the longest of her tentacles stretch out across the entire abyss, floating on the currents, grasping and relaxing, curling and uncurling. You brush one of them and it ripples, twists itself into a knot and releases.

tellmetellmetellme

tellmewhatworriesyou

_Nothing worries me_ , you tell her. _Nothing! I’m happy!_

mydaughter

tellme

_It’s nothing, reely. It’s just… harder than I thought!_ You sink through the water, coming closer. _I knew it was going to be hard to get trolls to listen to me, but I never thought my FRI---ENDS would make it even more difficult!_

tellme

_I wish he would just trust me. I know what I’m doing! And I’m the Heiress! If he cares about the spectrum so much, why can’t he just accept what I do without question?_

tellme

_I don’t really mean that. He has a right to question me. I’m not superior to anyone. It’s just… hard._

missedyou

_I do know what I’m doing. I can fix things. I just need people to trust me._

missedyou

_I missed you too._

The water is getting heavier, like a blanket. Like a hug. The color leeches away first until your clothing is gray. Then light itself disappears. And then in the utterly impenetrable blackness you can feel the incomprehensible bulk of your lusus.

missedyou

missedyou

_I'm here._

dontleave

_I’ll stay for a while._

dontleave

neverleave

_I have to, but I’ll stay for a while._

neverleave

_I’m here._  


* * *

  
Kanaya is waiting for you in one of the upper chambers of the palace when you return. You’re late, but you know Kanaya doesn’t mind. She’s sitting primly on a cushioned chair in the meeting room, her hands folded in her lap. Her gown is jade green, sewn with slippery layers of silk leaves. She told you it looks like sunlight on trees, and you have to trust her because you’ve never seen that yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say immediately as you approach the table. Guards shut the door behind you. “You’ve probably been waiting for ages!”

“It’s fine, Your Majesty,” she says. She was probably here exactly on time.

You wave that away. “I hope you’re hungry. I ordered us an early lunch.” You drop down in the chair opposite her. Your skirt billows. Your dress is a cloud of tyrian taffeta and gold lace. Kanaya designed it herself, and it’s something you like to wear when you come to see her. It’s too delicate for to wear underwater.

“That would be lovely,” she says. You hold out your hands to her across the table and she takes them, smiling. You smile back. You can’t help it. You’d almost forgotten what it was like to just be happy with your moirail, instead of worrying yourself sick all the time.

“Were you with her?” she asks you quietly.

“Yes,” you say. Your mood sours slightly. “I hate leaving her. She’s so upset when I leave.”

“You can’t live down there. I think she knows that.”

“I wish I could, sometimes,” you say. “I just feel so guilty.”

“You can’t be everything for everyone.” Kanaya squeezes your hands.

“I can try,” you say, but you squeeze back and smile. “I’m glad you could meet with me today.”

“We got our final reports in last night.” Kanaya tugs her hands gently from yours so that she can pull some papers from her bag. “The imperial drones finished their classifications yesterday.”

You take the papers from her. Kanaya, as a jade blood, is one of the extremely rare trolls who is able to work with the imperial drones and the Mother Grub. As young as she is, you insisted that she be your ambassador between the palace and the drones. Your plans are going to need the help of the drones to work, and you can’t do that without Kanaya on your side.

The relationship between the drones and the palace is a very uneasy one. Even the Imperious Condescension herself has very little say in what the drones can and cannot do. Every troll, no matter the caste, must submit to the drones when they come. The perpetuation of the species is the most important aspect of troll life, and not even imperial law can supersede it.

“Just under one hundred million trolls were registered,” Kanaya says as you read. “That’s out of an estimated eight hundred million eggs laid in this slurry batch, which is slightly better than the typical eleven percent grub survival rate. Of those one hundred million, more than six point six million were culled for reasons such as infirmity, physical disability, or unacceptable mutations. Again, this falls close to the average culling rate of roughly seven percent.”

“Cod, this is terrible,” you say, skimming the paper. “Eight hundred million eggs laid in a sweep, and eighty eight percent of those never make it to adulthood. How can we possibly say that this is making us stronger?”

Kanaya is silent. You glance up at her. She looks troubled.

“What do you think about it?” you say. “Personally, I mean. Not speaking as an ambassador from the drones.”

She chews delicately at one green painted lip. “Forgive me, but I understand the necessity of culling in certain cases,” she says after a moment of thought. “I’ve seen mutations in newly hatched grubs that would only lead to a lifetime of suffering and shouldn’t be allowed to continue on in the genetic slurry. There’s also the fact that culling those sick with communicable diseases helps cut down on the risk of a pandemic. With livestock, it’s often better to allow predation to weed out the weak and the sick in order to prevent them from spreading the disease or using up resources better utilized by the healthy. We’re not livestock but some of those same rules apply.”

“You think culling is acceptable, then?”

She glances up at your tone. “I’m sorry. I’m saying that it’s acceptable in certain cases,” she says. “Culling is natural, and when the decision is left up to nature, it can only make the species stronger. But what we’re doing isn’t natural.”

“How so?”

“We’re not basing our culling decisions on weeding out the sick and old. It’s more that we’re…” She pauses, thinking. “We’re breeding ourselves to an ideal. We’re self-selecting the traits that we want to perpetuate. Every time we cull a lowblood for being too nice, we’re removing their propensity toward niceness from the slurry. We only allow mutations if they can be used offensively against an enemy. We’re becoming more and more warlike with every troll we cull.”

You idly flip through the papers, frowning. “So you’re saying we are making ourselves stronger by culling. But that’s not a good thing.”

“We’re making ourselves too strong,” Kanaya agrees. “The only reason we haven’t obliterated ourselves already is because we’re focusing that energy outward in our invading army, but we can’t sustain this. There is constant fighting among the trolls in the fleet. Most of the wars we fight are against ourselves!”

“What do the drones think?”

Kanaya folds her hands on her lap again. “ ‘Think’ isn’t the term I’d use. Communication with them is… haphazard. I know some of the other jadebloods feel the same way I do, but I don’t think any of us would dare discuss it with the drones.” She looks at you. “The drones can’t change. They’re hatched from unfertilized eggs. They’re genetic clones of the Mother Grub, and they remain unchanged from the beginning of time. Maybe in the past, a priority on bloodthirstiness was necessary for our survival. But how can we make them see that it’s starting to hurt us instead?”

There is a quiet knock at the door. You call to them to enter and two servants come in with trays of your lunch. Kanaya sits quietly as they set down the trays in front of you both. The servants are both bluebloods, but they show Kanaya the utmost respect in your presence. She is, after all, a jade blood, and her position with the drones makes her important, even if the color of her blood is only mediocre.

Your raw swordfish on a bed of roe is heavenly. You’re starving. You eat as fast as dignity allows.

“Is he doing okay?” Kanaya asks quietly, stirring her soup. She can read you like a book.

“No,” you say, your own voice quiet. “He warned me this would happen, but I’m still worried. I don’t know what to do. It could be weeks before he’s better!”

“If I can help, let me know,” she says.

“Thank you. I don’t know how anyone can help.” You wring your hands. “It’s not like a wound that a doctor can heal. I don’t know if I could keep them from culling him if they knew how sick he gets.”

Kanaya reaches across the table and lays her hand on yours. You let yourself go still and take a breath.

“He’ll get better,” she says. “You’ll both get through this. If you’re afraid for him in the palace, give him to me for a few weeks when I fly west again. Tell everyone you’re just loaning him to me.”

“And have you bring him closer to the drones?”

She smiles faintly. “I don’t live with the drones. I’m given a lot of latitude as ambassador. I could tell everyone he’s doing my paperwork and no one would have to interact with him at all.”

“I’ll think about it,” you say cautiously. You don’t like the thought of being apart from him for a while, but if it will save his life, you’ll consider it. “Thanks, Kanaya.”

Her smile is warmer now. “You’re welcome.”

“Now come on. When we finish lunch we’re going to figure out a way to negotiate with these drones.”  


* * *

  
It’s late in the evening when you return to your blocks.

The room is silent. You go straight to the recuperacoon. “Wake up,” you say, leaning in. You slick Sollux’s slime-wet hair away from his face. “Come on.”

He grumbles at you. You withdraw and retreat to the dressing room, where you shuck your gown. Then you return to the recuperacoon, nude. You climb in with him, sinking into the warm sopor, and wrap your arms around him.

“We’re going to get up,” you say. “We’re going to shower. You are going to eat food. Okay?”

“Fuck off,” he mutters. You squeeze him tightly.

“I pity you so much,” you whisper to him. “I would do anything for you. You know that, right?”

His only response is to close his eyes. You kiss him on one eyelid, then the other.

“I’m going to help you,” you says. “We’re going to get through all of this.”

You kiss him again and then you sit up, pulling him up too. He flails a little in the slippery recuperacoon, then gets his balance.

“Up. Come on.”

You manage to get him out of the recuperacoon, even though he fights you every step of the way. You bring him into the shower and turn on the hot water, letting it run over the both of you. He sighs and you kiss his neck. He leans on you and lets you wash his hair.

Out of the shower, you help him get dressed. He moves as if gravity weighs more heavily on him than usual, but he does button his shirt when you leave him to it.

You have some bread that you picked up in another early evening meeting. It’s not much but it’s probably all you’ll be able to convince Sollux to eat anyway. When he’s dressed, you make him get in an armchair by the cold fireplace. You sit on the arm of the chair and tear a piece of bread off the roll, handing it to him. He takes it.

“Are you going to chew it for me too?” he says derisively, staring at it.

“If I have to,” you reply.

He groans and some of the fight drains out of his shoulders. He slumps back in the seat and eats the bread.

You give him a piece at a time as you tell him about your day. It doesn’t even matter what you’re saying. You just want to fill the silence. He listens, or at least he stays quiet, and when he finishes eating the roll, he takes hold of your hand and just holds onto it.

“I don't deserve you,” he says when you pause in the middle of telling him about Kanaya.

You lean in and give him a quick peck on the lips. “You deserve more,” you reply.

His bicolored gaze slides away from you, tight and uncomfortable with self-loathing. You brush your free hand through his short hair, feeling the lowblooded heat of him under your hand. You want to curl up around him and absorb that warmth, but you know he can’t stand your smothering touch right now. You know he wants you to do nothing more than let him sleep.

“Tell me where the project stands,” you say instead.

He heaves a sigh and lets go of your hand. “Fuck, FF,” he says. He rubs tiredly at his eyes, batting your hand away. “I don’t fucking know.”

“You were working on it yesterday,” you say patiently. Patience is not something you’re good at, but you won’t get very far with anything else in this situation. “I saw you.” Most of that ‘work’ was him just slumped in front of the screen, staring blankly, but that’s more than he was able to accomplish today.

“It’s… I don’t know.”

“Kanaya told me that Krabcakes and Taffrail” (that was an obscure pun, even for you) “arrived in the city yesterday.”

“They did? Fuck. Fuck. I wasn’t done.”

“Tell me what to do and I can do it,” you say.

“It’s not something you can do,” he mutters. “It’s just… fuck, I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“It wasn’t my priority. I was focused on… ugh.” He buries his face in his hands.

“I know, I know. It’s okay.” You stroke his hair again because you can’t resist. He’s just so pitiful. “They’re safe for now, and they can wait. I’ve been asking you to do so much for me and you’ve been doing so great. I should have made you take a break earlier before you burnt yourself out.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says, his voice muffled by his hands. “It’s just me. Fuck, I have to fix this. Let me up.”

You get off the arm of the chair. He doesn’t want your help as he gets to his feet. He goes to the husktop and drops heavily into the chair at the desk, looking like he dreads the sight of it. He’s told you before that the depression is like a giant brick wall in front of him, and if he wants to do anything, even if it’s just a simple task like getting out of his recuperacoon or taking a shower or leaving the respiteblock, he has to face scaling this massive wall first. It’s so overwhelming that most of the time he can’t face it at all.

For the past week, he’s been working on your main project. You know very little about the technical details, but the gist of it is this: Sollux has been setting up a network much like TrolliianExiile, but on a wider scale. A much wider scale.

You know that your plan to change society, to rewrite the culling laws and even out the hemospectrum, is never going to change through stuffy meetings with highbloods. Revolution never starts from the top. It would be hypocritical to even take that approach. Nothing is going to change if you don’t involve lowbloods in this from the very start. In order to start gaining support and getting your highly treasonous message out there, you’re going to need a network to connect everyone. A network that can stand to have a few weak links; one that won’t collapse and give up its secrets when some of your revolutionaries are inevitably compromised. This isn’t some sort of mouthpiece for you to transmit your message to the people as an Empress does. This is going to be a place where everyone is able to exchange ideas, advice, and news. It’s going to be the one form of communication on Alternia—and throughout the Imperial Fleet and the conquered nations—that does not face heavy censorship.

And Sollux has been working on this more or less single-handedly. TrolliianExiile is the beta version, and he has spent most of his time rewriting it, strengthening it, expanding it.

He logs out of your account on the husktop. You try not to lurk over his shoulder. Instead, you tidy the block, wiping up your salt water footprints from the shower.

Ten minutes later, you return to the husktop. He is still staring at the login screen.

“I can’t do this, FF,” he says when you stop behind him.

You hug his shoulders. “You can. I know you can.”

“I can’t.” He takes a shuddering breath. He’s not crying but he’s huddled in on himself. “It’s too—I don’t even know where to start.”

“Okay. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Sollux, don’t apologize.” You lean your cheek against his. He hunches away from you and you let go of him. “It’s okay.”

“I want to go back to sleep,” he mutters.

“Do you want to talk to Aradia? We can see if she’s online.”

He stays where he is, hugging himself. “No.”

“It might make you feel better.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

He stares at the screen. You stand behind him and keep from touching him. You feel sick with worry. You don’t know what to do. He’s so miserable and there is absolutely nothing you can do to help and you don't know what to DO. You hate this SO MUC)(.

Your lusus hates it when you leave her and even from here, you can feel her terrible keening loneliness in your head. If you ever lapse in your duties to her, everyone you know will die. Sollux can’t function without you and if you don’t take care of him, the secret of his mental illness will get out and he’ll be culled. The one good decision you’ve ever made in your life was breaking off your moirallegiance with Eridan because you just couldn’t keep fixing his problems anymore, and that still fills you with sick guilt. You know that he’s heading for some sort of disaster and you can’t shake the feeling that it will be entirely your fault when it happens.

Your bloodpusher hurts. You resent them, and you hate yourself for it, because it’s not fair of you to resent them for things they can’t help!

Sometimes you wish there was ON-E P-ERSON in your life who could just take care of themselves. Someone who just glides through life with perfect poise. Someone who is patiently supportive and overwhelmingly self-possessed and oh cod why don’t you just troll Kanaya already. You hate bothering her again after just seeing her tonight because it makes you feel clingy, but maybe that’s what you need sometimes! And when she needs you in return you are going to be the B-EST PAL-ESIST-ER -----EV-ER!

Sollux sighs and pushes back his chair, getting to his feet. He takes one step toward the recuperacoon and you turn to follow him and then

and then suddenly

you are not in your respiteblock at all

you are in a cold, echoing room with computers all around you and a horn pile on the floor, and Sollux is crumpled against the wall, his eyes seared out of his skull, and Eridan is in front of you with a sneer on his face and you charge—

light punches through your chest

you feel your thoractic struts crack

you are dead

  


* * *

  


You are not dead. You open your eyes to stare at the ceiling of your respiteblock. Sollux is on the floor next to you, whispering “Fuckfuckfuckfuck” endlessly. You stare at him, and he stares at you. Your head is stuffed full with an extra set of memories that you can’t believe you ever forgot.

“That’s the second time,” he says. “Isn’t it? Remember? This happened before. We remembered and then we forgot.”

Ten days ago. He’s right. The sky cracked then, and for a brief moment in time you remembered _everything_ before it all slipped away again like sand through your fingers.

But how could you forget the game? The Vast Glub, the mass slaughter of your people, because you failed Gl'bgolyb. Sollux dead trying to save your life. Sollux blinded because you let Eridan slip too far into his insanity.

How could you forget the universe where you failed at everything that mattered?

You sit up and crawl to Sollux. He wraps you in his arms. He’s shaking. You both are. You press your forehead to his shoulder. He’s warm and bony and he smells like salt water from the shower. In this reality, you haven’t failed any of them yet.

You wait to forget.

And this time you don’t.  


* * *

  


**END ACT TWO**


	19. Chapter 19

**Intermission: Further conversations**

**April 24  
3rd day of the first bilunar perigee of the first dim season**

GT: dave?  
GT: did it happen to you again?  
TG: if youre talking about a complete mental mindfuck then yeah it did  
TG: last thing i remember was trying to blow up the green sun to reset the game  
TG: and at the same time i remember never playing the game at all  
GT: i guess that means jade was right.  
GT: not that i doubted her... although i guess i did.  
GT: oh man this is just  
GT: oh man.  
TG: deep breaths  
GT: brb  
GT: i have to go hug my dad.

CG: IT'S A CIRCUS HERE.  
CG: ONE OF THE SUBJUGGLATORS’ CIRCUSES, COMPLETE WITH SCREAMING AND BLOODSHED.  
CG: GAMZEE OF COURSE RUSHED RIGHT OVER TO SEE TAVROS AND MAKE SURE HE REALLY IS ALIVE AND WITH HIS HEAD ATTACHED.  
CG: NEPETA FREAKED OUT, OBVIOUSLY, AND SCRATCHED HIM UP, AND THERE IS INDIGO BLOOD EVERYWHERE.  
CG: I WOULD HAVE PUT MORE EMPHASIS ON THE WORD “EVERYWHERE” TO SHOW YOU HOW LITERAL I AM BEING BUT THAT IS NOT ACTUALLY POSSIBLE SINCE I'M ALREADY TYPING IN ALL CAPS.  
CG: EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE.  
CG: EQUIUS IS HERE NOW TOO ALTHOUGH I THINK THE DANGER OF TOTAL PARTY KILL IS AT A LOW RIGHT NOW BECAUSE EVERYONE'S JUST GLAD THAT THEY'RE ACTUALLY ALIVE.  
TA: kk ii hope you know iim not readiing that wall of gray text.  
CG: SHUT UP. I'M TALKING AT YOU, NOT TO YOU.

GC: D4V3  
GC: W41T WH3N D1D 1 BLOCK YOU

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] ha2 unblocked turntechGodhead [TG] \--

TG: i just want to tell you tz  
TG: it looks like mutual love of shitty clip art and terrible memes is something that not even erasing the universe can change  
GC: 1 4LW4YS SUSP3CT3D AS MUCH >:]

AG: I have to hand it to you, Redglare! I didn't think you had it in you.  
AG: Sta88ing me in the 8ack like that.  
AG: I'm impressed!  
GC: 1 W4SNT DO1NG 1T TO 1MPR3SS YOU  
GC: 1 W4S DO1NG WH4T H4D TO B3 DON3  
AG: 8luh 8luh whine whine  
AG: Take a compliment already!  
AG: It was underhanded and sneaky, just like a real legislacerator!  
AG: 8ut I just want to let you know  
AG: You’ll never get that chance again.  
AG: :::;)

GT: so um just out of curiosity...  
CG: YES IT HAPPENED HERE TOO. I REMEMBER YOU NOW, EGBERT.  
GT: oh good! whew! hehe.  
CG: THAT'S A STRANGE REACTION.  
GT: well i just mean that i remember all the conversations i had with you and it would be kinda sad if you didn't!  
CG: I’M SO GLAD I CAN REMEMBER THAT CLUSTERFUCK OF SCREAMINGLY BAD JUDGEMENT ON MY PART AND UTTER INANITY ON YOURS.  
GT: was this what you were expecting?  
GT: when we talked about the scratch, i mean.  
GT: because it sure wasn't what i thought was going to happen!  
CG: I THINK SOMETHING WENT WRONG.  
CG: WE WERE SUPPOSED TO KEEP OUR MEMORIES, WEREN’T WE? WE WERE SUPPOSED TO FIND SOME WAY TO NOT BE RESET WITH THE REST OF THE GAME.  
GT: but what happened?  
CG: HOW THE FUCK WOULD I KNOW? YOU HUMANS WERE THE ONES RESPONSIBLE FOR THE ENTIRE THING. WE WERE JUST SLAUGHTERING EACH OTHER AND MAKING REALLY POOR LEADERSHIP DECISIONS.  
CG: I ADMIT: I AM NOT STUNNED THAT YOU FUCKED IT UP.  
GT: i think i liked you better before you got your memories back :/  
CG: FUCK YOU, EGBERT. I'M GLAD TO SEE YOU TOO.

GG: it was my fault :( :( :(  
GG: i'm the one that made the mistake!!  
TT: What makes you think so?  
GG: i feel really bad about it  
GG: echidna made me promise to find a way to take all the planets with me when we escaped the scratch  
GG: but i couldn't figure out how! i took too long breeding frogs and then i don't even remember what happened next!  
GG: i think i might have been assassinated  
GG: :( :( :( :(  
TT: I don’t think you can blame yourself for that.  
TT: Certainly not for being assassinated.  
TT: In any case, I believe we were all misinformed as to the true nature of the Scratch.  
TT: I regret to say that I was very gullible when it came to trusting certain sources.  
TT: But in any case, as it seems I reached God Tier moments prior to the reset, I believe I can avail myself of my Seer of Light powers and extrapolate what happened.  
TT: We were all reset to a point in time just prior to starting the game. I would have to say that it’s likely that we weren’t just sent back in time--we were also put into a new universe entirely, one in which not playing the game was, in fact, the alpha timeline.  
TT: Which explains how you were able to remember things the rest of us could not, as you were the Witch of Space.  
GG: i sort of wish i hadn’t :(  
GG: remembering didn’t help me at all! it just made everyone think i was crazy  
TT: For what it’s worth, I apologize for ever doubting you.  
GG: thanks rose :)  


* * *

  
 **April 27  
6th day of the first bilunar perigee of the first dim season**

GC: DO3S TH1S CH4NG3 4NYTH1NG?  
TG: what would it change  
TG: ok maybe in one life we were the last survivors of our species fighting a losing battle against a godlike enemy  
TG: but last i checked thats not the life im currently living  
TG: just because i remember that other life doesnt mean theres a damn thing i can do about it  
GC: 1 KNOW >:|  
GC: BUT WH4T 4BOUT J4CK NO1R?  
TG: tell me your cunning plan to defeat him  
GC: >:[ OF COURS3 1 DONT H4V3 4 PL4N!  
TG: exactly  
TG: what could we possibly do  
GC: 1T 1SNT L1K3 YOU TO G1V3 UP SO 34S1LY  
GC: YOU W3R3 TH3 ON3 WHO 4LW4YS D1D WH4T H4D TO B3 DON3  
GC: SHORT OF S3LF MURD3R  
TG: yeah about that  
TG: were still not cool with that  
GC: 1 W4NT YOU TO KNOW TH4T 1 R3GR3TT3D 1T  
TG: well thats a start  
TG: anyway im not giving up  
TG: give me a plan an im all over it  
TG: but fuck terezi i dont have the first idea what to do about this  
TG: im not a child soldier anymore  
TG: we scratched that whole session because we couldnt fight him  
TG: what could we possibly do to him now  
GC: 1 4DM1T W3 4R3 4T 4 D1S4DV4NT4G3  
GC: BUT 1T S33MS WRONG TO CONT1NU3 1N MY 4PPR3NT1C3SH1P 4S 1F NOTH1NG H4S CH4NG3D  
TG: heres a thought though  
TG: what if nothing changes  
TG: what if jack doesnt show up for another hundred years  
TG: i mean im not advocating sitting on our thumbs or anything but we cant just give up on our lives expecting the world to end tomorrow  
TG: because what if it doesnt  


* * *

  
 **May 1  
10th day of the first bilunar perigee of the first dim season**

GT: happy may day!  
CG: WHAT'S THAT.  
GT: it's may first! it's sort of a holiday but not really.  
GT: is it spring on Alternia?  
CG: EGBERT IT’S BEEN SOME TIME SINCE I STUDIED YOUR DUMB HUMAN CULTURE SO YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO GIVE ME SOME CONTEXT FOR YOUR MORONIC VOCABULARY HERE.  
GT: what season is it there?  
CG: IT'S THE FIRST DIM SEASON.  
GT: um.  
GT: ok.  
GT: what does that mean?  
CG: IT MEANS IT'S NOT AS BRIGHT AND HOT AS THE LIGHT SEASON AND NOT AS COOL AND DARK AS THE DARK SEASON.  
GT: so i guess it could be... spring!  
GT: how many seasons do you have a year? we have four  
CG: TWENTY FOUR.  
GT: ...  
GT: what are the other ones called?  
CG: JUST THOSE. IT JUST CYCLES. DIM, LIGHT, DIM, DARK, DIM, LIGHT, ETC.  
CG: TWELVE DIM SEASONS, SIX LIGHT SEASONS AND SIX DARK SEASONS.  
GT: wow. i guess that's kind of cool!  
CG: IT’S NOT COOL. IT’S ACTUALLY GETTING REALLY FUCKING HOT OUT AND IT’S NOT EVEN HALFWAY THROUGH THE DIM SEASON YET. THERE WERE EIGHT HOURS OF SUNLIGHT HERE TODAY, EGBERT. EIGHT. I AM STUCK IN A TINY LITTLE APARTMENT WITH THREE OTHER PEOPLE, ONE OF WHOM SPENT MOST OF HER LIFE LIVING IN A CAVE PAINTING ON THE WALLS WITH BLOOD, AND EVERY DAY IT IS GETTING HOTTER AND BRIGHTER.  
CG: AND I CAN’T EVEN LEAVE THE APARTMENT AT NIGHT YET BECAUSE SOMEONE (AND I'M NOT MENTIONING ANY NAMES BUT HIS NAME STARTS WITH S AND ENDS WITH OLLUX) HASN’T GOTTEN AROUND TO DELIVERING THE PAPERWORK YET.  
GT: why do you need paperwork?  
CG: SO WHEN THE POLICE STOP ME IN THE STREET FOR BEING ANHEMONYMOUS THEY WON’T CULL ME WHERE I STAND.  
CG: AND BEFORE YOU ASK, ANHEMONYMOUS MEANS THAT I’M NOT DISPLAYING MY BLOOD COLOR FOR EVERY ASSHOLE TO SEE, AS IF THE COLOR INSIDE MY VEINS REALLY IS THE DEFINING CHARACTERISTIC OF EVERYTHING I AM AS A TROLL.  
GT: that sounds kind of scary actually :(  
CG: OUR SOCIETY IS BUILT AROUND HEMOSTATUS. IT DETERMINES EVERYTHING. WHEN YOU MEET A TROLL, THE FIRST THING YOU PAY ATTENTION TO IS WHERE THEY ARE ON THE SPECTRUM, BECAUSE THAT TELLS YOU HOW YOU CAN INTERACT WITH THEM.  
GT: but why? i mean, it’s blood color. how can you even tell?  
CG: IT’S SO MUCH MORE THAN BLOOD COLOR. IT INFLUENCES EVERY ASPECT OF YOUR LIFE. YOUR NAME. WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE. HOW YOU THINK. HOW LONG YOU’LL LIVE. WHO YOU CAN INTERACT WITH. WHERE YOUR HIVE IS. WHAT YOUR LUSUS IS. WHAT YOU CAN DO FOR A CAREER.  
GT: that doesn't seem fair.  
CG: IT’S JUST THE WAY THINGS ARE.  
GT: so what does that mean for you? i mean, you don’t fit in there.  
CG: EXACTLY.  
GT: exactly what?  
CG: THAT’S WHY IT’S SUCH A BIG DEAL. I DON’T FIT IN ANYWHERE. SO HOW ARE PEOPLE SUPPOSED TO KNOW HOW TO INTERACT WITH ME?  
GT: maybe just by... treating you like a person?  
GT: i mean troll?  
CG: IT’S A LOT MORE SUBCONSCIOUS THAN THAT. IF I DON’T FIT INTO A SPECIFIC PLACE ON THE HEMOSPECTRUM, BUT I STILL THINK A CERTAIN WAY OR LOOK A CERTAIN WAY, WHAT DOES THAT MEAN ABOUT THE SPECTRUM IN GENERAL?  
CG: DOES IT MEAN THAT THOSE PARTS OF ME ARE SOMEHOW SEPARATE FROM MY BLOOD COLOR?  
CG: IF I HAVE ALL THE CHARACTERISTICS OF A LIMEBLOOD, BUT I’M NOT A LIMEBLOOD, WHAT DOES THAT MEAN ABOUT LIMEBLOODS?  
CG: IF BLOOD COLOR DOESN’T DETERMINE MY WORTH AS A TROLL, WHAT DOES THAT MEAN FOR THE ENTIRE HEMOSPECTRUM?  
GT: it means the hemospectrum is stupid.  
CG: YEAH, PRETTY MUCH.  
GT: so what do people say about it?  
CG: IF I WERE TO TELL ANYONE, WHICH OBVIOUSLY I NEVER WOULD BECAUSE I’M NOT BUGFUCK INSANE, THEY WOULD SAY I’M JUST A FREAK OF NATURE WHO SHOULD HAVE BEEN CULLED BEFORE I HATCHED.  
GT: do you think you can hide it your whole life?  
CG: OF COURSE I WILL. I HAVE TO, BY DEFINITION. THE SECOND THE AUTHORITIES FIND OUT ABOUT IT, MY LIFE IS OVER, SO NO MATTER HOW LONG I KEEP THE SECRET, IT’S FOR MY WHOLE LIFE. THE REAL QUESTION IS WHETHER I CAN HIDE IT LONG ENOUGH TO HAVE A LIFE OF A DECENT LENGTH.  
CG: AND I’M BEGINNING TO THINK THAT...  
CG: I MAY HAVE MADE A MISTAKE ON THAT FRONT.

AT: gAMZEE,  
AT: aRE YOU THERE,  
TC: not  
TC: MOTHERFUCKING  
TC: now

CG: ERIDAN TALK TO ME  
CG: BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING STUPID, TALK TO ME  
CG: WOW I FEEL LIKE I’M SAYING THAT TO YOU CONSTANTLY.  
CG: I KNOW YOU'RE GETTING THESE BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T BLOCK ME THIS TIME.  
CG: WHICH I HOPE IS A GOOD SIGN.  
CG: ERIDAN?  
CG: FUCK.  


* * *

  
 **May 9  
18th day of the first bilunar perigee of the first dim season**

TA: kk ii hope youre ready two bow two my unmatched geniiu2.  
TA: youll have two have tz piick them up at the regii2tratiion offiice becau2e the2e motherfuckiing paper2 are 2o legiit.  
TA: the2e arent some fuckiing back alley con job2.  
TA: ii cant even tell you how legiit they are becau2e you cant comprehend my 2kiill2 here.  
TA: the2e paper2 are from the iimperiial databa2e iit2elf.  
TA: iit wa2 2o 2mooth kk.  
TA: they dont even know what hiit them and they never wiill.  
CG: IT’S ABOUT TIME.  
CG: LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE’S FEELING BETTER.  
TA: yeah fuck you kk ii should have known better than two expect a liittle gratiitude from you even though iive been bu2tiing my a22 over saviing your2.  
TA: and al2o ye2 iim feeliing amaziing becau2e ii am amaziing.  
TA: iif iit werent for me you wouldnt have them at all 2o 2uck on that.  
TA: you dont even under2tand what were doiing here.  
TA: 2peakiing of whiich.  
TA: we have a job for you.

AA: i am glad y0ure feeling better  
AA: h0wever im afraid y0u have merely traded 0ne e%treme f0r an0ther  
AA: s0rry  
AA: *extreme  
TA: oh god not thii2 from you two.  
TA: ff wont 2hut up about iit.  
TA: iit2 liike none of you can 2ee how great ii am.  
TA: iive never felt better aa.  
AA: yes y0u have  
AA: the last time y0u were manic y0u said the same thing  
TA: thii2 ii2 diifferent.  
TA: anyway fuck that iim gettiing 2hiit done liike you wouldnt beliieve.  
TA: we are goiing two rock thii2.  
TA: ii dont even know what wa2 my problem before but iit2 ju2t 2o ea2y now.  
TA: ii dont thiink iive 2lept iin three day2.  
AA: s0llux as y0ur m0irail i am telling y0u to sl0w d0wn  
TA: no can do aa.  
TA: 2o much 2hiit two do.

AT: uMM,  
AT: i'M GLAD YOU THINK i CAN HELP, bUT,  
AT: i'M NOT SO SURE,  
TA: 2hut up.  
TA: iim ju2t braiin2tormiing at you.  
TA: kk blocked me and aa i2 ju2t telliing me two go two 2leep and ff i2nt around riight now.  
TA: ju2t 2ay "um" and "uh" at regular iinterval2 and youll be fiine.  
AT: uH,  
TA: good job.  
TA: 2o anyway a2 ii wa2 2ayiing ii have a theory about the apiiculture network that ii thiink ii2 goiing to revolutiioniize thii2 whole project.  


* * *

  
 **May 14  
23rd day of the first bilunar perigee of the first dim season**

GT: four weeks from today, i'll be an official high school graduate.  
GT: this is so weird.  
TG: this is it egbert youre finally a man  
TG: youll go far i can tell  
TG: got any parties lined up?  
GT: a couple!  
GT: i'd throw one but dad would start baking and never stop.  
GT: and anyway if i were going to have one i'd rather you guys could come to it.  
TG: we can have one when we get to roses  
TG: just the four of us  
GT: yeah :)  
GT: i cant wait to see you all again.  
GT: even if this is sort of like a war meeting and not just us hanging out.  
TG: it will be a war meeting with booze  
TG: as only the best war meetings are conducted

CG: ARE YOU TALKING TO ME YET?  
CG: NO?  
CG: LOOK, I TRIED TO WARN YOU.  
CG: YOU KNOW WHAT?  
CG: FUCK YOU.  
CG: I'VE BEEN WORKING HARD ON TRYING TO REACH OUT TO YOU, AND WHAT DO YOU DO? YOU IGNORE ME.  
CG: AT LEAST YOU'RE DOING IT BLATANTLY INSTEAD OF AGREEING WITH ME TO MY FACE AND THEN RUNNING OFF AND DOING YOUR OWN THING ANYWAY, LIKE YOU DID ON THE METEOR.  
CG: YOU'RE A WALKING DISASTER, ERIDAN.  
CG: SO FUCK YOU. I CAN'T KEEP TALKING TO A BRICK WALL. I'M DONE.  


* * *

  
**May 25  
1st day of the second bilunar perigee of the first light season**

To: xxxxx  
From: Ampora, Eridan  
Subject: our discussion  
Attachments: trolliianexiile.exe  
Message:  
here you go


	20. Chapter 20

**ACT THREE**

  


* * *

  


To: apocalyp2eArii2en, adiio2Toreador, carciinoGenetiicii2t, ar2eniicCatniip, ... [more]  
From: twiinArmageddon2  
2ubject: URGENT  
Attachment2: TEuniin2taller.exe  
Me22age:  
trolliianexiile ha2 been compromii2ed. run thii2 uniin2taller IIMEDIIATELY  


* * *

  
 **Rose**

It is the twenty-eighth of May and you’ve spent the morning drafting your valedictory. Your final day of classes was yesterday. You’re now facing Senior Week, which you regard with utter apathy. You’ll attend the graduation rehearsals and the awards breakfast, but you draw the line at the various other “fun” activities that have been planned by your student council. The best thing about graduation is that you’ll finally be outside the cultural zeitgeist of high school and all of its attending social milestones.

Your mother has been taking your upcoming graduation as another way to lavish passive aggression on you. She wants to throw a graduation party to honor your achievements. If it were anyone else, you might be touched, but you remember the horror that was the party to celebrate your first menses, and, more recently, the party to celebrate your coming out after you escorted another girl to the prom. Dave, John and Jade just don’t understand how truly malicious a perfectly catered garden party can be.

You’re on page three of your speech when a message pops up on Pesterchum.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

TG: whats up  
TT: What could possibly possess you to be awake this early in the morning? It can’t be past ten in the morning in Houston.  
TG: youre saying that like you think ive been to bed yet  
TT: Surely you have to sleep on a decent schedule to go to school.  
TG: it takes a lot of effort to maintain my perfect c average  
TG: i have to balance out my staggering intelligence with a borderline failing attendance record  
TT: It makes me cringe when you say things like that, Dave.  
TT: Which is probably why you say them.  
TG: so not to change the subject or anything but did you notice how empty pesterchum is

You frown at that, then bring up your chumroll. Dave, John and Jade are still there, but all of the trolls have abruptly disappeared from your trollslum. The sight sends a shock of dismay through you.

TT: I hadn’t noticed until you pointed it out.  
TT: I hope nothing’s wrong.  
TG: i guess that means none of them told you anything either  
TT: I spend the majority of my time speaking to Kanaya, and she’s not what I would describe as technologically savvy.  
TG: tz didnt say anything either  
TG: at first i thought vantas did something again but then i realized hes really not smart enough for something that nefarious  
TT: Whenever you talk about your interactions with Mr. Vantas, there’s one particular portmanteau that springs to mind.  
TT: Let me see. What was it.  
TT: Oh, right: hateflirting.  
TG: what no  
TG: the guys a douchebag  
TG: i mean dont get me wrong im sure hed be all over this if he could  
TG: but the guy can go choke on a bag of dicks for all i care  
TG: and dont even start with your thing about phallic imagery because none of those dicks in that bag are mine  
TT: I see.  
TG: stop it  
TG: none of that psychologist bullshit  
TT: Go on.  
TG: no  
TG: just no  
TG: were changing the subject  
TT: Hmm.  
TG: like for example lets talk about your lesbocrush  
TT: Interesting.  
TG: you know what i cant even talk to you when you get like this  
TG: implying things left and right  
TT: I haven’t implied anything. Any meaning you draw from my words is merely a reflection of your own feelings.  
TG: nope  
TG: i know you lalonde any meaning i draw from your words comes from how well i know your dirty little mind  
TT: Is that so.  
TG: yep  
TG: time to go strife with bro ttyl  
TT: Bye.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

You sit back in your chair. The loss of Kanaya from Pesterchum actually hurts. You’ve grown accustomed to talking with her. In fact, you’ve done little else in the last few weeks. Your mother has commented more than once on the hours you’ve been spending on your computer, but honestly the acquaintances you have in real life aren’t a fraction as interesting as the friends you have online. Your mother may consider physical proximity an important aspect of friendship, but you never have.

In the month since that second knock on the door, the one that brought your memories back for good, you’ve been struggling to reconcile your two lives. The memories of everything that happened in SBURB are there, overlaying everything you’ve done. You remember your petulant attempts at attacking the game itself, destroying the gate and obliterating each of the game’s inane little puzzles, with the childish idea in your head that you were bucking the system. You remember standing over your mother’s corpse, filled with such utter grimdark rage that you couldn’t speak. You remember sabotaging Dave’s heroic attempt to save the day by putting him to sleep and absconding with the Tumor so that you could make the sacrifice instead. And you remember standing with Dave at the Green Sun, waiting to die.

And at the same time, you remember five years of normal teenage life. You would be tempted to say that you have had some sort of psychotic break, except that Dave, Jade and John remember everything too.

You guiltily think of how alone Jade must have felt over the years, being the only one with this half-remembered world in her head.

“Rosie, darling.”

Your mother taps her knuckles on your bedroom door, leaning in. She’s holding two empty martini glasses in one hand which she must have collected from a table somewhere.

“It’s always five o’clock somewhere, isn’t it, Mother?” you say in your mildest voice, giving the glasses a pointed look.

She waves the glasses slightly. They chime together. “I was checking to see if you had any dishes that needed to be washed.”

Ah, the ironic housewife routine. “Have I left any dirty dishes lying around?” you say in mock dismay. “I didn’t _think_ I had. I’d hate for my slovenly habits to reflect poorly on your parenting skills.”

One corner of her mouth curls up in an acknowledgement of the point you just scored. “You know you have done well as a parent when your child exceeds you,” she murmurs in false humility. “I know you try your hardest for me, sweetheart, and it hurts to think you’re sacrificing your personal life for it. If you ever need me to shoulder some of the burden so you can attend to your fledgling social life, you only need to ask.”

Ouch. Point for Mom. You don’t wince, though. “I love you, Mother,” you say.

Something around her eyes softens. It’s not because of the words you just spoke. You both know that “I love you” is just another weapon in the passive aggressive arsenal in this household. But the fact that you sank low enough to use them means that her words hit harder than she probably intended them to.

“Love you too, babe,” she says. She turns away from the door and wanders away, glasses clinking.

Well, that’s your mood ruined. First Kanaya going missing and now this. You close your laptop and put it in your sylladex. It’s a beautiful late spring day outside. Maybe that will cheer you up.  


* * *

  
In a week and a half, John, Dave and Jade will be arriving at your house. Normally it would be extravagant to see them twice in two months, especially considering the price of plane tickets. You know that Dave and his brother are not particularly well off, and Dave had been talking about maybe making it a road trip instead, an idea which had been subsequently abandoned after he’d calculated the price of gas. Then Jade had solved the issue by saying her private jet had to land at Houston Intercontinental anyway for refueling, so he may as well catch a ride.

You walk barefoot through the neatly mown grass of the lawn and settle on a bench under a tree. The yard has been flawlessly landscaped in anticipation of the graduation party, which you still hope to talk your mother out of. The rush of the river is a comforting noise as you curl up on the bench.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] \--

TT: Let’s assume that the only reason we were able to talk to the trolls in the first place is because of Jack trying to force his way back into this universe.  
TT: Perhaps his attempt to push his way through one door is making the rest of the doors more permeable, so to speak.  
GG: hi rose!  
GG: i guess that makes sense...  
GG: it sounds kind of scary though  
TT: I'm not sure what this might mean for us no longer being able to contact the trolls.  
TT: Does it mean Jack is retreating? This seems unlikely, given that his second "knock" seems to have had a much greater effect than his first.  
GG: maybe it was just temporary?  
GG: or maybe its not connected at all  
TT: Perhaps. I guess any sort of musing is pointless, since there isn’t a way to tell for sure unless we can contact them somehow.  
TT: However, this gives me an idea.  
TT: If our original contact with the trolls is, in fact, due to some sort of thinning of the walls between our two universes, I wonder if there’s a chance that we could take advantage of that.  
TT: It had originally been our plan to meet up with them eventually, though that never came to fruition.  
TT: And while I doubt that the four of us could fight a god, even with these vestigial memories of strife proficiency, we may have better luck with the trolls on our side. They are better suited to war.  
GG: i do want to meet them, even though i hate the thought of what it means if we do get to see them  
GG: but how would we even begin to do something like that?  
GG: its not like we contacted them in the first place  
GG: they just showed up on pesterchum!  
TT: I don’t know. It’s just a thought. We can explore it further when you all arrive here.  
GG: i really miss you rose!  
TT: I miss you too.  
GG: :)

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] \--  


* * *

  
You have a piano lesson in an hour. You have no intention of continuing them once you go to college, although you will continue them up to the very last minute. You would have ended them earlier, except your mother told you she would support you one hundred percent if you wanted to take the summer off and enjoy the last two months of your childhood.

Instead of taking the car, you ride your bike into town. The breeze ruffles your hair and you let yourself coast down the hill without touching the brakes, gravity pulling you faster and faster until the wind brings tears to your eyes.

It’s not that you don’t have friends, because you do. You have two friends with whom you attend art house film showings every few months. You joined a knitting circle a year ago and you’ve made sure to attend every meeting. You are even a part of a writing group, where you faithfully critique the inexpert prose of the other attendees. You take piano lessons and ballet lessons and horseback riding lessons.

But none of those people know you very well. This is entirely your own fault, of course, but you think that if they knew you in your entirety, they wouldn’t stick around. They haven’t seen you grimdark after the murder of your mother. They haven’t faced death at your side. They haven’t tried to save the universe with you. Everyone you know in real life simply doesn’t matter as much as the people you only talk to online.

Maybe the point you’re trying to make in this self-indulgent meandering is that it’s difficult living a life with your body in one world and your mind someplace else entirely.

You’re early for your lesson so you stop in a cafe across the street, locking your bike in the rack. You sit at a table outside with an iced latte and a scone and you decaptchalogue your laptop.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

TT: She still wants to have a graduation party. I have mulled over the following options:  
TT: 1. I will schedule a dentist appointment for the same day.  
TT: 2. I will advertise the party on Craigslist and mention the free booze.  
TT: 3. I will fail to invite anyone at all. There is a subtle difference between a party which no one attends because no one was invited versus a party which no one attends because of a lack of interest, and I’d prefer the former to the latter.  
TT: 4. I will host an AA meeting in the house at the same time. This last option is crude and I’ll only consider it if all else fails.  
TG: tell me something  
TG: do you ever think this battle for supremacy is a little one sided  
TG: sometimes a graduation party is just a graduation party  
TT: You don’t know my mother.  
TG: look im not saying im the expert on healthy familial communication here  
TG: im just saying sometimes it seems youre reading more into her actions than whats actually there  
TT: I appreciate your insight into my psyche, Mr. Strider.  
TG: no you see i already pointed out my lack of expertise in this so you cant throw that back at me  
TT: After I got my memories back last month, I tried very hard to express my affection for her honestly.  
TT: Out of some misplaced sense of guilt, I suppose.  
TT: I don’t think she knew what to do with that. The patterns of our interactions are so heavily codified in our lives that there is no room for honesty anymore.  
TT: Do I regret that? Yes. But at this point I don’t know if I can change it.  
TG: jesus lalonde youre eighteen years old not eighty  
TG: people change  
TT: Do you ever see yourself honestly telling your brother how much you respect him?  
TG: i think he already knows  
TT: That’s not the point. I’m sure my mother knows that I care for her, even if we don’t communicate in that sort of language.  
TT: But my point was whether you think you could ever sit down with him and have an honest, open conversation and start treating each other like actual adults instead of perpetuating this cycle of irony, machismo and physical brutality.  
TG: i dont know  
TT: Thank you for your honesty, Dave. I don’t know if that’s possible with my mother and myself, either.  
TT: Sometimes I wish it were.  
TT: Who knows? Maybe the fact that I feel that way means I’m growing a little as a person.  
TT: I’m late for my lesson.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--  


* * *

  
After your piano lesson is over, you take the bike the long way back to avoid the hill. It’s a gorgeous day. You cycle past fields of cows while sunlight filters down through the trees lining the road.

You’ve lived with your mother your whole life. In a couple of months you’ll move to college and you don’t think you’re ever going to come back. You will find an apartment in Ithaca and work there in the summers and you won’t need any of her passive aggression anymore.

Your laptop chimes as you ride your bike but you ignore it. It’s probably Dave again. You won’t admit that what he said bugged you a little. Sometimes you do wonder if you’re making all this up. It’s hard, sometimes, finding an objective way to measure the sincerity of your mother’s responses, and you’ll start to think that you really are overreacting. Then she’ll do something like build a mausoleum for your dead cat and you’ll realize that nope, that’s really not normal.

When you reach the house, you ride your bike across the lawn, leaving a thin, meandering line across the grass. You abandon your bike in a heap under the tree and get out to sprawl in the grass.

You take out your latest knitting project—a jade green shawl—and set your laptop up to play music. The messages you heard earlier are from John. He seems to have no problem talking to your away message so you let him continue.

\-- ghostyTrickster [GT] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

GT: rose they're all gone!  
GT: dave says they’re gone from his trollslum too. i'm worried.  
GT: karkat is always talking about how dangerous it is there. he's a fugitive from the law!  
GT: maybe it was like in enemy of the state when will smith is in hiding and he accidentally makes that phone call even though gene hackman told him not to and so the bad guys can trace the call and gene hackman has to blow up his whole hideout in order to throw the bad guys off the scent.  
GT: except with troll will smith instead.  
GT: i wonder if there's a troll enemy of the state movie.  
GT: it probably has a ridiculously long and stupid title.  
GT: and a lot more decapitations.  
GT: rose i know you’re there. it says you’re not idle anymore.  
GT: you’re just watching to me talk to myself, aren’t you.  
GT: roooooooose.  
GT: rooooooooooooooooooose.  
TT: You didn’t seem to need my input.  
GT: i knew you were there.  
GT: what do you think happened to them?  
TT: If I had to hazard I guess, I would say it was probably *not* due to Karkat blowing up his hideout to throw anyone off his trail.  
TT: Since I’m fairly certain that they don’t all live together, yet they all disappeared within the same time frame.  
TT: So short of some sort of nuclear war killing everyone simultaneously, my best guess would be that they are having technical difficulties.  
GT: technical difficulties due to troll swat teams kicking in their doors?  
TT: Perhaps.  
GT: :(  
TT: There’s nothing we can do about it from here.  
GT: no, i guess not.

Footsteps swish through the grass next to you. You raise your head to see your mother walking toward you. She’s barefoot, with her shoes in her hand.

TT: I have to go. It seems my mother wants to talk to me.  
GT: tell her i said hi.  
TT: I probably won’t.  
GT: haha okay.  
GT: bye.  
TT: Bye.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] \--

Your mother stops next to you and drops her shoes. “Did you eat lunch?”

“I had a scone and coffee before my lesson,” you say absently, closing Pesterchum. You pick up your knitting again. She sits down in the grass next to you, arranging her skirt over her knees.

She’s young. You never really paid much attention to that before, but she couldn’t have been more than twenty when she adopted you. Raising you as a single mother must have been difficult, although she certainly had enough money to forgo the usual single parenthood cliches. Still, you don’t know if you would have done the same if you’d been faced with that decision.

She’s also drunk. You can smell it on her breath when she sighs.

“Your disapproval’s been registered,” she says when you open your mouth.

You close your mouth again and go back to your knitting. There is a pause during which you don’t look at her and she doesn’t look at you.

“I do remember,” she says after a long silence. “What I remember doesn’t make any sense, but I do remember it.”

You raise your head. She has pulled a blade of grass from the lawn and is twirling it between her fingers.

“All of it?” you ask carefully.

She hesitates. “The important parts,” she says.

You busy yourself untangling a knot in the yarn for a moment. You want to say so many things— _I should have looked for you, I should have been there sooner, I tried to avenge your death and I was killed too_ —but all of those things are trapped firmly behind a barrier that you and your mother have spent far too long building. This must be why she drinks, you think with sudden clarity.

“Snark amnesty, by the way,” she adds. “This is an emergency summit. Check your bitchiness at the door.”

“John says hi,” you say.

She snorts.

“Have you talked to his father at all?”

She pauses for a moment. “Yes,” she says finally. “We talked.”

It must have been weird, you think. Talking with someone with whom you were slaughtered in another life. You may have died next to Dave when you deployed the Tumor, but you didn’t have to watch him get butchered.

“I talked to Dirk, too,” she says. Off your look, she adds, “Dave’s older brother.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t expected that. “What did he say?”

She smiles. “He likes to talk.”

“Does he?” You suppose you’ve never tried talking with him. Huh. Maybe you should.

“Rosie…” She sounds like she wants to say something important, but she hesitates again. You wait, knitting another row on your shawl. You wonder if Kanaya would like it. You wonder if you’ll ever speak to her again.

“I died,” she says finally, although you know that’s not all of what she wants to say.

“Me too,” you say.

She looks surprised. “You did?” she says.

You nod. She chews her lower lip for a second, getting lipstick on her teeth. If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you like her better when she’s drunk. She’s always shrewd and snarky and manipulative and passive aggressive, but when she’s drunk, it softens her edges, makes her sloppier, less inclined to care about getting the upper hand.

She makes a gesture like she’s reaching for her sylladex but then she lets her hand drop. “This is hard,” she says plaintively, and either she’s a lot drunker than you thought or she’s actually serious about this “snark amnesty” thing, because you have never heard that note in her voice before. “I’m too sober for this.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” you say, surprising even yourself.

She looks at you. Her eyes are pale pink. “I _am_ proud of you, Rosie. Seriously.”

You could say “I love you” but you’ve both ruined that phrase beyond redemption. You could say you’re proud of her too, and in a sense you are, but you don’t think she’d believe you. You spend so much of your time picking apart Dave’s inability to express any sort of serious emotion but you’re just as bad as he is.

“I don’t want a graduation party,” you say instead.

She flicks the bit of grass away and shrugs. “Okay,” she says.

“Okay,” you echo.

“Do you want to go out for lunch?” She brushes grass off her skirt and gets to her feet. “I’m starving.”

“Sure,” you say. You put away your knitting and laptop. “I’ll drive, though.”

“It’s a deal, dollface,” she says, and you walk across the lawn together.


	21. Chapter 21

To: Ampora, Eridan  
From: xxxxx  
Subject: Re: our discussion  
Message:  
Intriguing, with disturbing implications. We managed to extract the usernames of the sixteen users, but the program doesn’t appear to save chat transcripts. The sysadmin seem to have been forewarned of our access.

To: xxxxx  
From: Ampora, Eridan  
Subject: Re: Re: our discussion  
Message:  
did i forget to mention hes a fuckin genius wwith computers

To: Ampora, Eridan  
From: xxxxx  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: our discussion  
Message:  
Tell us who these users are.  


* * *

  
**Dave**

Okay so what happened was this:

In the other universe you were a thirteen year old kid with a talent for strifing with swords and an uncanny ability to flashstep, as well as a gift for sick rhymes and ill beats and shitty webcomics. And when you played the game, it took this admittedly kickass raw material and shaped you into someone who could bend time to your will, juggle a dozen stable time loops effortlessly, bring a nakkodile stock market to its knees, and slice a moon from its very mooring to send it on a suicide mission to reset the entire universe. You were a Knight and you became a god.

In this universe, you are an eighteen year old guy who still has a talent for strifing with swords. You still flashstep. You have a modest following online for your music and comic. You’ve got a C average in school. You’ve told everyone you’re taking a year off before you apply to college, partly because you’re going to need actual money to do that, and partly because the thought of your future fills you with crippling apathy. You are not a Knight or a god. You are just some kid coasting along waiting for something to happen because you just don’t care enough to make things happen on your own.

If you cared, things would be different. You know you can do stuff if you put your mind to it. It would be easier if you cared about your future. But you don’t feel strongly about anything in particular.

You’re sprawled on the couch, fucking around on your laptop, while the shower runs. You and your Bro strifed on the rooftop for a while, until it got too hot. He’s got to be in work in half an hour, and he almost never sleeps, so the physical activity does a double duty of waking him up enough to function at work, and wearing you out enough to maybe get some sleep.

Maybe you inherited your fucked up circadian rhythm from him. You can’t remember a time in your life when the two of you went to bed at a normal hour.

The shower stops and after a minute Dirk comes out, toweling his hair. He disappears into his bedroom.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] \--

TG: check this  
TG: i could be a nude art model at the u of houston  
TG: $30/hr  
GT: no one's going to pay you to get naked, dude  
TG: are you kidding im like michaelangelos david here  
TG: i am da vincis masculine ideal  
GT: no, you’re right, artists like to hire weird looking models all the time  
GT: like one-legged prostitutes and stuff like that  
GT: can you fake having one leg?  
TG: not one  
TG: maybe three  
TG: they dont call me dave the tripod strider for nothing  
GT: haha oh man that’s gross  
GT: no one calls you that

You stretch out more on the couch, pulling your laptop onto your stomach. Maybe you will fall asleep before noon. Your eyes are getting tired.

“Wash the dishes before I get back,” Dirk says from right next to you. He’s already dressed in the uniform of the garage where he works, although he’s left the shirt unbuttoned over the tank top because it’s too hot out for that shit. You don’t flinch, because that would be uncool, although your heart rate does ramp up a little. Jesus. You hadn’t even heard him. Point to him. He doesn’t usually get the drop on you like that anymore.

You give him a fractional nod of acknowledgement and he disappears again, and a moment later you hear the front door slam.

TG: bros going to charge me rent starting the day i graduate  
GT: ouch  
TG: nah its cool  
TG: id do the same  
TG: its expensive raising a kid  
TG: gotta start paying him back at some point right  
GT: yeah but aren’t you saving up for college?  
TG: i guess  
GT: did he go to college?  
TG: he got his certificate at hcc  
TG: guys a lot smarter than that but raising a newborn kinda fucked his plans  
TG: maybe newborn isnt the right word  
GT: paradox slimebaby  
TG: there ya go

Your eyes slip shut. When you open them again, the sunlight through the window has moved across the room and your laptop is asleep. You close it and drag yourself to your bedroom where you fall into bed for another few hours.

You get up with the heat of late afternoon still in the apartment, and you wash the dishes that have piled up in the sink.

If you were still the Knight of Time you could get so much shit done. You would already know what to do with yourself because you could see your own stable time loops doing it first. When you talked to Terezi about whether having your memories back would change your life, you told her that you were just waiting for someone to come up with a plan, and it’s true, you are. If something needs to be done, you’ll do it.

But you have a strong feeling that it isn’t going to matter, because you’re not half the man you used to be. Resetting the game was supposed to erase your problems, but instead it just erased you.

You find your laptop on the living room floor where you left it and open it up again. John is no longer online, but there’s a name in your trollslum. Before you even have time to click on it, a new chat window pops up.

\-- caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] \--

CA: Why are you still around.

You consider this for a moment. You’ve never talked to this troll before, although you’re pretty sure his name is Eridan and that he’s kind of a douchebag. Terezi doesn’t talk about him much, although she did mention that he murdered a few people back in the other timeline.

TG: its nice to know im wanted  
TG: where is everyone anyway  
CA: He didn’t warn you.  
TG: whos he  
CA: Sollux Captor.  
TG: doesnt ring a bell  
TG: warn me about what  
CA: He went by the username twiinArmageddon2.  
TG: oh him  
TG: never talked to him  
CA: Who did you talk to.  
TG: do you want me to give you a list  
TG: we can check everyone off one by one  
CA: If you wouldn’t mind.  
TG: that was a joke  
CA: That’s an interesting font color you’ve chosen.  
TG: fuck not this again  
TG: try not to get a troll boner over it  
TG: its all you guys ever want to talk about  
CA: It is just a very scandalous color.  
TG: here ill save you the trouble of asking  
TG: yes its the color of my blood  
TG: yes i know how hot i am  
TG: no i dont want to touch your troll boner

There is a pause. You wonder if he’s having an aneurism or something. Some of these trolls get so worked up about human blood.

TG: finished jerking it yet  
TG: dont let me interrupt  
CA: Does everyone know about it.  
TG: pretty much  
CA: You must trust them a lot.  
TG: seriously dude  
TG: what could they possibly do about it  
TG: whine about their troll hemospectrum at me  
TG: basically thats it  
CA: You’re right. We’re all equal under the new Heiress.  
TG: uh  
TG: sure  
CA: Have you spoken with termiinallyCapriiciiou2 recently.  
TG: nope  
CA: How about centaur2Te2tiicle.  
TG: remember how i said i was just joking about listing everyone i talk to  
CA: I was just wondering if you knew how they were doing.  
CA: As highbloods, they must be very busy.  
TG: basically all i talk to is tz  
TG: and on bad days sometimes vantas  
TG: but seriously thats it  
CA: There is no limeblood on this list.  
TG: what  
CA: Vantas is a limeblood surname.  
CA: Oh.  
CA: You must mean the anhemonymous carciinoGenetiicii2t.

Alarm bells are suddenly and far too belatedly ringing in your head. What the fuck. You have been so stupid. You should have known from the second that everyone disappeared that the security of their chat client had been compromised. You don’t know a lot about troll culture, even with all the time you spent talking to Terezi, but you know that they are all in a pretty precarious position right now, and it’s very possible that you have just given some delicate information to someone who is probably not Eridan.

TG: nah  
TG: i was talking about ghostytrickster  
TG: he likes to fuck around with his text color  
TG: dude is seriously twisted  
CA: I see. I had assumed his unorthodox color meant he was as mutant as you.  
TG: nope just me  
TG: im the only mutant here  
TG: hes just a pervert

You open up a second chat window and send a quick warning to John. He’s still not online, which is good because it means he’s not already talking to this spy douchebag. You read back over your conversation with the fake troll. You’re pretty sure you didn’t give them much, although how would you really know? Maybe you spilled all sorts of scandalous troll secrets without realizing it.

CA: Then tentacleTherapii2t and gardenGno2tiic are also anhemonymous.  
TG: haha you think those are their real colors  
TG: so naive  
TG: its kind of pitiful really  
CA: What.  
TG: you know what i mean  
TG: im talking pity  
TG: im here with like a tear in the corner of my eye  
TG: my heart breaking a little with every word you type  
CA: I beg your pardon.  
TG: youre not even purple are you  
TG: youre trying to hide your true colors  
TG: let them shine man  
TG: theres no judgment here  
CA: Of course I’m purple.  
TG: shh  
TG: shhhh  
TG: its ok  
TG: you can let it out  
CA: Misrepresenting your hemostatus is illegal and while your friends may be comfortable with that kind of blasphemy, I am not.  
TG: aww baby  
TG: theres a lump in my throat  
TG: i just want to like stroke your hair or something  
TG: its so precious  
TG: theres a single tear rolling slowly down my cheek  
CA: I am uncomfortable with this. You will stop.  
TG: wait  
TG: hang on  
TG: i think im getting a troll boner  
TG: gonna admit im unclear on the anatomy here so bear with me  
TG: there are nooks and bulges and little tentacle things all over the place  
TG: its r'lyeh in my pants right now  
TG: hey man you got a bucket handy or something

\-- caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] \--  


* * *

  
You’re not sure when to expect your bro back from work so you order two pizzas and then spend more time looking through want ads. People have been telling you that if you get a job before you go to college, you’re never going to end up going. Is that really such a bad thing? But then, if you don’t have college in the future, what will you fill your time with? At least going to college will give you a few more years before you have to decide what to do with your life.

The pizza arrives. You pay the guy and leave one pizza on the kitchen counter, taking the other one into the living room. Screw the want ads. You’ve been working on a six song mashup to play at your next djing gig, and that’s far more interesting.

Your brother comes home half an hour later. “Pizza’s in the kitchen,” you say when you hear the door open, not looking up from your laptop. He tosses his keys onto the kitchen counter.

A moment later he comes to stand over your shoulder, chewing on a slice of pizza and listening to the loop you’re working on.

“Not bad,” he says.

You grunt noncommittally, although you’re pretty pleased. He drops down onto the other end of the couch.

“Think you’ll have a job before you fly to New York?” Dirk says.

You shrug. You haven’t really been that serious about looking yet, since you figured most places would want you to start immediately and you didn’t want to get a job and then tell them you were flying across the country for a few days.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your rent,” you say.

“I’m not going to coddle you,” he says. “If you can’t make the rent, I’ll find another tenant.”

Apparently graduating high school means a demotion from ‘brother’ to ‘tenant’. “Got it.”

“Dave,” he says, sounding faintly amused. He’s always been able to read you like a book. “I’m not punishing you. You know the deal.”

“Yeah maybe I’m not that interested in having you live vicariously through me,” you say. He snorts.

The deal: he won’t charge you rent if you enroll in college. He’ll even pay for half. He is _such_ a control freak. He’s just not usually this blatant about it. He never got the chance to make something of himself, but you’ll be damned if you let him force you to pick up the slack.

“There comes a time when imitation isn’t flattery anymore,” he says.

“I don’t think there’ll be any more ectobabies falling from space any time soon, so I don’t think you have to worry about me following in your footsteps,” you say. You say it too fast and then you kick yourself because the _only_ person who can make you lose your cool this quick is your brother.

“Which means you don’t have an excuse,” he says.

There are so many things you want to say to that. You didn’t force him to adopt you. He could have just let you disappear into the foster system and you couldn’t have lifted a finger to stop him. Sure, he was pretty much destined to raise you due to weird game mechanics and paradox shenanigans, but it all comes down to the fact that Dirk raised you of his own volition and you didn’t have a say in the matter, so he can’t make you _guilty_ for the fact that raising you ruined his life. (And you know he would never say that it ruined his life, but you both know that he could have gone so much further without you.)

But on the other hand, you _do_ owe him for all he’s done for you, and now that you’re an adult, freeloading on him would be extremely uncool.

“If I go to college, I’m going to pay for it myself,” you say. “And if I don’t, _that’s my decision._ ”

He’s silent for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then he lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

“That’s fair,” he says.

“Really?” you say before you can stop yourself.

“I’m still charging you rent.”

“Fine.”

“How much do I owe you for the pizza?”

You turn back to your laptop. “It’s on me,” you say.  


* * *

  
The sun is long set when a message pops up in Pesterchum. It is full of ugly yellow text.

To: apocalyp2eArii2en [AA], adiio2Toreador [AT], carciinoGenetiicii2t [CG], ar2eniicCatniip [AC] ... [more]  
CC: gho2tyTriick2ter [GT], tentacleTherapii2t [TT], turntechGodhead [TG], gardenGno2tiic [GG]  
From: twiinArmageddon2 [TA]  
2ubject: UPDATE  
Attachment2: trolliianexiile2.0.exe  
Me22age:  
after 2ome bulgewiipe2 made a laughably iinept attempt two hack iinto the la2t ver2iion, ii made 2ome 2ecuriity update2. iit 2hould be a lot harder two 2poof 2omeone2 account now but be careful what you 2ay anyway.

iim cciing the human2 on thii2 becau2e theyre not u2iing trolliianexiile and 2iince ii have no iidea how they are gettiing acce22 two our me22age2 at all, iit2 2tiill po22iible that they can get me22age2 from 2omeone u2iing 1.0. 2o try not two be dumb fuck2. 2et up 2ome 2ort of pa22word 2y2tem or 2omethiing.

There are a couple names in your trollslum again, and a few more pop up as you watch, as the trolls download the new version. You feel a surprising sense of relief when you see them, which you try not to explore too deeply.

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] \--

GC: M1SS M3????  
TG: nice try impostor  
TG: im gonna need more proof than that  
GC: YOU KNOW 1TS M3 >:[  
TG: hmm  
TG: nope  
TG: cant say that i do  
GC: RUD3  
GC: TH3N TH3 ONLY OPT1ON 1S TO T3LL YOU SOM3TH1NG ONLY 1 WOULD KNOW  
TG: yep  
GC: DONT WORRY  
GC: WH3N 1 W4S STUCK 1N TH3 V31L 1 W4TCH3D HOURS OF YOUR L1F3 ON TH3 COMPUT3RS TH3R3  
GC: 1 H4V3 PL3NTY OF 1NT1M4T3 M4T3R14L TO CHOOS3 FROM  
TG: ok you know what i believe its you  
TG: we dont need to go there  
GC: FOR 3X4MPL3, R3M3MB3R TH3 T1M3 TH4T TH3 N4KKOD1L3S TR13D TO COOK YOU 1N 4 SOUP 4ND YOU CR13D?  
TG: for future reference the password is going to be ‘dave is the illest mofo’  
GC: 1 APPROV3  
TG: ok so i have something to present as a hypothetical here  
TG: lets say i talked to someone earlier today  
TG: who may not have been who i thought they were  
TG: am i going to need the representation of a legislacerator here  
GC: PL34S3 B3 MOR3 SP3C1F1C  
TG: lets say i talked to someone who i thought was caligulasaquarium but now im not so sure  
GC: OBJ3CT1ON! TH3 PROS3CUT1ON DO3SNT B3L13V3 4NYON3 WOULD SP34K TO H1M W1LL1NGLY  
TG: youre not the prosecution youre the defense  
GC: NONS3NS3  
GC: GU1LTY P4RT13S DO NOT H4V3 4 R1GHT TO 4 D3F3NS3  
TG: anyway i think i may have mentioned the name vantas  
GC: 1N WH4T CONT3XJLASKDFMASD  
GC: SLAS;DOFI'  
GC: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU TELL THEM, STRIDER.  
TG: what are you doing there  
GC: I LIVE HERE, YOU INSUFFERABLE FUCK.  
TG: i was talking to tz  
GC: BUT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT ME SO YOU LOST THE RIGHT TO SPEAK TO TEREZI. TELL ME WHAT YOU SAID.  
TG: does she let you sit on her lap while shes typing or something  
GC: SHE LETS ME DO MORE THAN TA[SKSD;/'  
GC: 1 WONT H4V3 YOU M1SR3PR3S3NT1NG OUR R3L4T1ONSH1P TO MY F4VOR1T3 COOLK1D, K4RK4T.  
GC: >:[ >:[ >:[  
TG: im not jealous tz  
TG: i know your heart belongs to me

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] has joined this conversation! \--

CG: BACK TO THE TOPIC AT HAND.  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY.  
TG: heres the transcript  
TG: vantassucksballs.txt  
CG: WHAT AN AMUSINGLY OBNOXIOUS REFERENCE TO ALIEN ANATOMY IN WHICH I HAVE NO INTEREST WHATSOEVER.  
TG: who said it had anything to do with alien anatomy  
TG: were you thinking about my alien anatomy or something  
CG: I ASSUME EVERY REFERENCE YOU MAKE HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH GENITALIA.  
CG: ITS THE SAFEST BET.  
GC: TH1S TR4NSCR1PT M4K3S M3 N3RVOUS  
CG: WELL FIRST OF ALL HOW DID YOU POSSIBLY THINK THAT YOU WERE ACTUALLY TALKING TO ERIDAN.  
CG: HE TYPES NOTHING LIKE THAT.  
TG: yeah and i would know that how  
CG: IT’S KIND OF CREEPY THAT THEY’RE ASKING ABOUT GAMZEE AND EQUIUS.  
GC: TH3Y WOULD OBV1OUSLY B3 1NT3R3ST3D 1N TH3 H1GHBLOODS.  
CG: RIGHT, AND THEY COULD FIGURE OUT WHO FEFERI WAS PRETTY FAST SINCE THERE AREN’T A LOT OF TROLLS RUNNING AROUND USING THAT COLOR.  
GC: TH3Y KN3W SOLLUX  
GC: 4ND TH3Y W3R3 US1NG 3R1D4NS H4NDL3  
CG: THAT DOESN’T REALLY MEAN ANYTHING.  
CG: ONCE THEY GOT ACCESS TO THE PROGRAM THEY PROBABLY COULD HAVE TAKEN OVER ANYONE’S ACCOUNT.  
GC: Y3S 4ND WHO G4V3 TH3M 4CC3SS TO TH3 PROGR4M K4RK4T  
CG: IF HE’D GIVEN THEM ACCESS, HE WOULD HAVE GIVEN THEM A BETTER IDEA OF HOW HE TYPES. IF THIS DOUCHEBAG HAD TALKED TO ANYONE ELSE, WE WOULD HAVE KNOWN INSTANTLY THAT IT WASN’T ERIDAN.  
GC: BUT TH3Y KN3W SOLLUXS N4M3  
CG: SO THAT MEANS IT’S SOMEONE AT THE PALACE. MAYBE ERIDAN LEFT HIS HUSKTOP OUT AND THEY GOT HOLD OF IT. THEY KNOW WHO FEFERI IS AND THEY COULD PROBABLY FIGURE OUT WHO SOLLUX WAS FROM HIS TEXT COLOR.  
TG: let me guess vantas  
TG: eridan is your boyfriend  
CG: FUCK YOU.  
GC: 1LL 4LLOW TH4T 4S 4 POSS1B1L1TY BUT 1 TH1NK 1T 1S 3QU4LLY POSS1BL3 TH4T 3R1D4N G4V3 TH3M TH3 1NFORM4T1ON TO ST4RT W1TH  
GC: 4FT3R 4LL H3 D1D B4S1C4LLY B3G YOU TO G1V3 H1M 4 R34SON TO SUPPORT F3F3R1 4ND SOLLUX  
GC: 4ND 1F 1 R3C4LL CORR3CTLY H3 FOUND YOUR R34SON UNS4T1SF4CTORY

There is a long pause. You wait for a moment, then sigh.

TG: try to remember the third guy in this conversation  
TG: do me a favor and dont just carry on a conversation out loud  
GC: SORRY!  
GC: 1N 4NY C4S3 1 4PPROV3 OF TH3 VULG4R 4ND MOSTLY 1NCOMPR3H3NS1BL3 3ND TO TH3 CH4T W1TH OUR 1MPOSTOR  
GC: 1 3XP3CT NOTH1NG L3SS FROM YOU  
TG: did i put you in danger  
GC: V4NT4S 1S NOT 4N UNCOMMON SURN4M3 GC: TH3R3 M4Y B3 4 DOZ3N 1N TH3 C1TY R1GHT NOW  
GC: BUT 3V3N 1F H3 DO3S TRY TO TR4CK H1M DOWN ‘K4RK4T V4NT4S’ H4S B33N L1ST3D 4S CULL3D  
TG: so youre saying i cant write mr. dave vantas on my notebook anymore  
CG: NO. AND DON’T EVEN ASK FOR MY NEW NAME BECAUSE YOU’VE PROVEN YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE RESPONSIBILITY.  
GC: YOU H4V3 B33N JUDG3D ‘1NSUFF1C13NT R34SON FOR CULL1NG’  
GC: JUST DONT L3T 1T H4PP3N 4G41N  
TG: only if he really pisses me off  
GC: 1TS 4 D34L  
TG: now run along vantas its time for the grownups to talk  
CG: TEREZI’S TOO BUSY TO TALK TO YOU.  
GC: NOT TRU3!  
GC: 1 4LW4YS H4V3 T1M3 FOR YOU D4V3  
GC: WH4T 4R3 YOU W34R1NG?  
GC: >;]  
CG: OH GOD

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] has left this conversation! \--

GC: H3H3H3H3


	22. Chapter 22

**Pesterlog excerpt:**

\-- arachniid2Griip [AG] began trolliing adiio2Toreador [AT] \--

AG: Pupa!  
AG: It’s 8een a while...  
AG: I’d almost think you were avoiding me!   
AT: uMM, nO,  
AT: nOT REALLY,  
AT: i'VE JUST BEEN, bUSY,   
AG: You can’t see me right now 8ut I’m laughing  
AG: Hahahahahahahaha!  
AG: What could you POSSI8LY 8e doing?   
AT: wELL,  
AT: i HAVE A JOB,   
AG: Who would hire a useless cripple like you????????   
AT: fEFERI,   
AG: Oh, I should have guessed! She hired you out of charity.   
AT: nO, i THINK SHE JUST, nEEDED SOME LOWBLOODS,  
AT: tO TALK TO PEOPLE,   
AG: Is this her project thingie? She hired you to recruit for her cause?   
AT: yES,  
AT: i JUST, tALK TO PEOPLE, aBOUT THE HEMOSPECTRUM,  
AT: aND ENCOURAGE THEM, tO THINK ABOUT IT,   
AG: You are the perfect troll for the jo8, now that I think a8out it.   
AT: aM i?   
AG: Fudge8looded and expenda8le.   
AT: wELL, pEOPLE WOULD BE AFRAID TO LISTEN, iF i WERE HIGHBLOODED,  
AT: bECAUSE IT COULD BE A TRAP,   
AG: And Megido’s dead and Sollux is a slave so 8asically you’re the only low8looded troll availa8le! Yet another checkmark on your list of qualifications.   
AT: kARKAT IS HELPING, tOO,   
AG: What is he doing? Shouting at people until he wears them down?   
AT: sOMETIMES,  
AT: bUT HE CAN BE CONVINCING, wHEN HE TRIES,  
AT: hE’S REALLY GOOD AT IT,   
AG: Aww that’s so adora8le.  
AG: You almost sound pale for him.   
AT: tHAT’S, iNAPPROPRIATE,  
AT: hE HAS A MOIRAIL,  
AT: aND ALSO,  
AT: i DON'T LIKE HIM, iN THAT WAY,  
AT: hE’S JUST A FRIEND,   
AG: :::;)  
AG: You are so easy to fluster.  
AG: How are things 8etween you and ~Gamzee~?   
AT: i DON'T REALLY,  
AT: wANT TO TALK ABOUT THAT,  
AT: wITH YOU,  
AT: eVER,   
AG: Awwwwwwww, trou8le in paradise?  
AG: You fail in all your quadrants, don’t you?  
AG: I thought you just sucked as a kismesis, 8ut I guess I underestim8d the scope of your a8ility to fail!   
AT: yOU KNOW, i THINK,  
AT: i’M TOO BUSY, tO TALK,  
AT: rIGHT NOW,  
AT: sORRY,

\-- adiio2Toreador [AT] cea2ed trolliing arachniid2Griip [AG] \--

AG: Rude.

\-- arachniid2Griip [AG] cea2ed trolliing adiio2Toreador [AT] \--  


* * *

  
**Equius**

Light season in the city is far different from light season back in your hive. In your hive, on its cliff in the verdant grublands, the light season smelled like sun-warmed vegetation and day-blooming flowers, and even though you spent most of the time hidden in the dark depths of your workshop, a warm breeze would sometimes wind its way inside, stirring the air.

Here in the city, your hive is too small to leave the windows open, because even indirect sunlight is painful and you have no inner rooms to escape it, so you have to rely on the artificially chilled air of your environmental recirculation system. When you do catch a breath of the air outside, it’s hot and flat and dry and smells like exhaust.

You catch such a breath now, and it makes you raise your head, blinking. You’re not certain of the time, although it must have been hours since you last looked up. The delicate internal workings of a robot are laid out in front of you on a soft white cloth.

“You haven’t taken a break, have you?”

You straighten your shoulders and put down the magnetized screwdriver, flexing your fingers. Aradia stops behind you and sun-warmed fingers touch the back of your neck, digging into the knots there. Her fingers are almost hot enough to make you flinch, but not quite.

“I didn’t expect you back for some time,” you say, letting her work the tension out of your muscles.

“I’ve been gone four hours.”

Oh. It’s later than you thought. You need to be at the Academy of the Imperial Ruffiannihilators early in the evening, and they are unforgiving of tardiness, as they should be. You appreciate the unrelenting schedule of the Academy. It is grounding to know exactly what is expected of you.

“Go to sleep, Equius,” Aradia says. She lets go of your shoulders and you hear the near-silent whirr of her servos as she turns to leave the room.

“You will not order me,” you say, turning. She throws you a look over her shoulder, and although her face lacks the expressive qualities of real flesh, there is definitely something roguish to the gesture. You waver for a moment, vacillating between obeying her order and ignoring it, before you rise to your feet. You were going to go to sleep _anyway_. But you secretly decide that you’re doing it specifically because she told you to.

Aradia doesn’t need to sleep, which is why she often spends the days wandering the city. As a robot, she doesn’t have any need to fear the sun. She tells you that the city in daylight is the domain of blacked out VAs, carpenter droids, and the few unlucky hiveless redbloods who wrap themselves in rags and scurry from shadow to shadow. You wonder if she feels kinship with the redbloods. If she hadn’t died, she could have been one of them, or else she could have been working long hours in a factory, broken down and used up for the few short sweeps that she was alive.

You’ve never asked her that.

She is already in the respiteblock when you enter, sitting at your desk. She’s using your husktop to troll someone, most likely her lowblood moirail, who doesn’t seem to sleep much anymore. You see large paragraphs of yellow type in the text box.

“Surely he has duties to attend to,” you say, taking off your shirt and folding it neatly.

“Right now he should be sleeping,” she replies. “But try telling _him_ that.”

“He is not receptive to my commands,” you say.

“I wasn’t being literal.”

You unbutton your trousers and pull them down, glad that her back is turned. You may be kismeses—matesprits—whatever—but you dislike undressing in front of her. It seems indecent. You pull on your sleep pants and climb onto the edge of the recuperacoon.

“Wake me at five,” you say.

“Set an alarm,” she replies.

Living with her is a constant struggle. She’s your blood inferior and she should obey you, but she only obeys you when she feels like it, which is both infuriating and oddly thrilling. You, in turn, only obey her commands when _you_ feel like it. Nepeta has told you before that it sounds like a relationship between equals. You hotly disagree with that sentiment. You are not equals, and to suggest as much is obscene. But. Maybe she has a point.

You lean over to the table next to your recuperacoon and set it for five, which is a scant four hours from now. You will be tired in the evening, but it is only as much as you deserve.

“Sleep with me,” you say.

She looks over her shoulder at you, then back at the husktop and continues typing. You wait a moment, then let it go. You slide down into the sopor, which is slightly warmer than the chill air of the room. You stretch out and close your eyes.

The recuperacoon shakes slightly and you open your eyes to see Aradia climb through the opening. She settles down into the sopor next to you silently, curling up against your body. You slide your arm around her and she lets you. She presses her metal lips against your neck.

Your relationship with Aradia is not… physical. At least, not yet. Maybe not ever? You don’t know. You are walking the line on the edge of propriety as it is, taking a robot into your quadrant, for all that she has the soul of a troll. You do feel for her. Strongly, one might say. But—without being indelicate—your relationship is not one that would satisfy the imperial drones. She has no genetic material to give. You have not yet been able to reconcile with the idea of a physical relationship that is not procreative. It would be improper.

Sometimes you wish desperately that she were alive, or that you had weaker morals, or even—scandalously—that the imperial drones did not exist. You know that at some point over the course of the next sweep, you are going to have to properly fill your quadrants or else face culling, and you don’t know what that is going to mean for your relationship with Aradia.

You can feel the sopor absorbing through your skin into your bloodstream, making your muscles relax and dragging you down into sleep. Aradia stays silent, her chest rising and falling in a grotesque parody of breath, and even after you fall asleep, the precise clockwork of her heartbeat echoes in your dreams.  


* * *

  
You wake with the alarm. Aradia is no longer in the recuperacoon. You rise and shower, check your email, and eat breakfast. You’d dearly like to return to the work you abandoned this morning, but you have no time.

Life moves underground in the light season in the city. Your hivestem connects to the tunnels under the city, where you can travel to the Academy out of the sun. This, too, is an unpleasant aspect of the light season. The tunnels are close, with often inadequate ventilation, and the temperature can creep quite high.

You move quickly down the sidewalk, among the hundreds of other trolls who are heading about their own business. The Academy is not too far away. You can see other trolls entering it as you approach. You hasten to the door, knowing that you’re cutting it close.

The lower entrance of the Academy of the Imperial Ruffiannihilators leads into an atrium that echoes with the sound of all the trolls milling about. Your first class of the evening is a review of strife specibi with a focus on fistkind. You expect to be moved out of the class by the end of the perigee, as your natural strength is somewhat of a danger to your classmates, and the class is too basic for you anyway. Still, learning the katas is useful, as your knowledge is largely self-taught and has some gaps.

You arrive in the classroom barely a minute before the bell, keeping your head bowed in apology. Most of the class is already here.

“Zahhak,” says the instructor. “A word.”

Her voice is firm but not angry. You approach her, uncertain. She gestures for you to follow her away from the other students, who are listening hungrily. The two of you stop in the rear of the room, out of earshot of the others.

“I’m expecting a visit from some observers tonight,” she says quietly. “We will put on a demonstration of a fistkind strife. You will be strifing with Famnar.”

You glance across the room at the student in question. He is a smaller troll than you, of middling talent. Your only difficulty in this strife will be in not winning too quickly.

“I’ve obtained his culling papers,” your instructor continues. “It needn’t be too messy but the observers aren’t opposed to blood.”

Oh. You hadn’t… expected this. Of course you will need to cull as a ruffiannihilator, but honestly you hadn’t thought you would be facing this situation until later in the sweep.

“I realize we haven’t covered it in class yet, but the observers are early.” Your instructor looks faintly annoyed. “In any case, don’t embarrass me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say.

“Good.” She nods you back toward the rest of the class.

You find that you are uneasy as you go through the opening exercises. You try not to look at Famnar, who doesn’t seem to have been informed of the strife yet. You mess up two simple katas and the instructor sends you a frown.

It’s almost a relief when the door to the classroom opens and five trolls enter. Then your eyes actually register who they are and you stop breathing.

Two of the trolls are high ranking bluebloods in the Academy. You don’t know them very well, and you dismiss them entirely when you see that the other three trolls are—

They’re subjugglators.

Two of them are older adults, louche and prowling in that way that subjugglators have, with their painted faces and purple robes. One of them is grinning like a shark. The other observes you all through unimpressed eyes.

The third one is Gamzee.

He stands somewhat behind the other two as if he doesn’t want to be here. He’s not quite as tall as them, and his shoulders are hunched. His mouth is in a flat, unhappy line. But his eyes, when they meet yours, are far too direct and focused.

The last time you saw those eyes, he was strangling you to death with your own bowstring.

Your instructor is introducing them to the class and announcing the strife. You tear your eyes away from Gamzee when you hear Famnar’s ragged intake of breath. He must know what his fate is in this strife. You catch his gaze and you want to tell him that you’ll make it quick, but you can’t.

The two of you enter the strifing ring while the others gather around. The Subjugglators have pride of place at the right side of the ring, where the instructor usually stands. You and Famnar bow to them, then to each other.

The instructor gives the signal. The strife begins.

For all his obvious terror, Famnar does not immediately abscond, which would only end badly for him but would not be a completely unexpected move. Instead he circles, mirroring you. His only hope is to somehow keep away from you long enough until you get tired, and then deliver a killing blow while staying out of your reach. It is technically possible, although unlikely. You wonder if your instructor obtained culling papers for you, too, in case of that eventuality.

He darts in unexpectedly. You swing and miss and he moves past you to the other side of the circle. Good. He seems to understand what his strategy should be here. At least he has a chance. He’s a blueblood. He should die with some dignity.

You continue to circle, and Famnar continues his strategy of lightning fast attacks. Most of the time he doesn’t manage to land a blow, but on the last time he lands a kick in your homeostatic viscera and it makes you stagger.

It is oddly quiet in the room. Everyone is hyper aware of the observers. You don’t let yourself look at them. You are sweating, although you haven’t been expending much effort so far. You are supremely uncomfortable. The usual calm that comes with physical activity is not coming to you right now. You are acutely aware of your audience.

One of the Subjugglators sighs. It is a drawn out, disgusted sound. Your fight is going on too long. They’re losing interest. Famnar knows it too. He darts in again, desperate, and executes a textbook perfect kick to the side of your knee. You see it coming and you spin away, and before he can retreat, you punch him. Hard.

You can feel his neck break.

He hits the ground and he doesn’t die immediately, his mouth opening and closing in jerky, involuntary movements. One of the subjugglators actually _laughs_. The rest of the students shift and whisper to each other. This is probably not the first culling that most of them have seen, but it’s the first one in class. Famnar’s mouth goes slack.

You find yourself suddenly at a loss. This is stupid, but you don’t actually know how to end a strife when your opponent is dead. Normally the instructor would call the fight and you and your opponent would bow to each other. But. He’s dead. And you don’t know what to do. You glance at your instructor, who tips her head toward the subjugglators. You bow to them.

“One punch,” says the one who laughed. He smiles at you with too many teeth. “That’s not natural, brother.”

You have no response to give him. Your face is frozen. He continues to grin, and then he turns to the others and they start talking amongst themselves.

They are only here to assess this sweep’s batch of recruits. That is all this is. Your instructor nods at you approvingly but it doesn’t ease the tension in your shoulders. You can feel your shirt sticking to your skin with sweat. Something about that fight felt wrong, although you can’t figure out what. You were given an order by your instructor and you carried it out. All of the paperwork was even in order, and, given his mediocre talents, Famnar’s death is no great loss to the Academy. There is no reason that you should question it, except that killing a real troll feels nothing like fighting one of your robots. Sure, you’ve killed imps and things in SGRUB, but this is different. Famnar didn’t explode helpfully into grist when the deed was done. He’s still there, his head at a wrong angle on the ground.

Your instructor orders the students to break up into pairs for sparring. For the moment, no one looks eager to spar with you. Gamzee is watching you. You rub your knuckles and look back at him. In your head you can hear him say _I TOLD YOU TO MOTHERFUCKING KNEEL._

“You got a name, peasantblood?” says one of the subjugglators. He’s talking to you.

“Equius Zahhak, highblood,” you say quietly.

“For the good of the species, right?”

“Pardon?” You stare at him blankly. His grin is not pleasant.

“That’s why the drones let you live with that mutation.”

Oh. “Yes, sir.”

Your strength _is_ a mutation. It is, at times, an exceedingly inconvenient one, but it is one that makes you a better troll. Your descendants may also share this strength, and the Empire will be stronger for it.

“Do you have a ship placement yet?”

“Uh, no sir.” It is far too early in the sweep for that. You stare at him.

“Keep doing what you’re doing and maybe you’ll find yourself on mine.” He shakes his head and chuckles. “One punch.”

He turns away to where the other subjugglator and the two Academy bluebloods are talking, which is fine because you have no idea how to respond to that.

“It’s a motherfucking miracle,” Gamzee says. Your attention snaps back to him. His indigo eyes are fixed on you, unblinking. “The way you went and just about punched his head clean off.”

“I have been training,” you say as levelly as you can.

“Are you motherfucking proud of yourself?”

The way he says it isn’t an accusation. He doesn’t sound upset or betrayed. It’s just a question. At some point in the last two perigees, he has realized his status in the hemospectrum. He doesn’t seem pleased with it yet, but that will come in time. This is no longer the sopor-stupid troll you knew.

You don’t blame him for killing you. He is an indigoblood, and thus anything he decides to do to you is entirely his own prerogative. You can’t believe in the hemospectrum without understanding that fundamental truth.

“I was asked to assist in the demonstration,” you say.

“But are you _proud_?”

It doesn’t mean that you’re not afraid of him. You don’t want to die. You don’t want him to feel the need to cull you. But what you want ultimately doesn’t matter. It has to do with obedience, and maybe that’s why your relationship with Aradia is flawed. Maybe it’s a good thing that she is not a troll. What you have with her is a perversion of the hemospectrum.

“I am proud of fulfilling my duty to the satisfaction of my betters,” you say.

His mouth twists a little and you can’t tell what he thinks of that answer, but then the subjugglators break off their conversation and start to move toward the door. Gamzee glances at them, then back at you.

“Is that good enough?” he says.

“Of course, highblood.”

He hesitates a second more, then turns to follow the others. You watch him leave.  


* * *

  
You return to your hivestem late, exhausted. It has been a very long night. The apartment has the stale air of a place that has been closed up too long. Aradia is not there.

Your computer is still logged in to her account. You log into your own and check your email. There is nothing new that requires your attention. There are, however, a couple of other trolls online.

\-- ar2eniicCatniip [AC] began trolliing centaur2Te2tiicle [CT] \--

AC: :33 < *ac pounces on ct immediately because she has b33n waiting for him all day!*   
CT: D --> Hello   
AC: :33 < *ac purrs and rubs her ch33k against his*   
CT: D --> Enough   
AC: :33 < you are never any fun   
CT: D --> I don’t know why you persist with this f001ishness   
AC: :33 < because its fun!  
AC: :33 < you should loosen up a little!   
CT: D --> You’re an adult now, Nepeta  
CT: D --> You need to begin acting like one  
CT: D --> It pains me to see you cling to this immaturity   
AC: :33 < :((  
AC: :33 < its not immature  
AC: :33 < you still use your horse puns sometimes  
AC: :33 < and your stupid bow and arrow even though you are a ruffiannihilator now!!   
CT: D --> Archery is one of the most noble professions   
AC: :33 < its just as immature as what i do   
CT: D --> No it’s not   
AC: :33 < yes it is   
CT: D --> Nepeta   
AC: :33 < it really is   
CT: D --> I saw Gamzee tonight

Her response takes awhile to come. You can imagine her chewing on the sleeve of her shirt, which she does all the time even though you’ve told her how uncouth it is.

AC: :33 < where?   
CT: D --> He was touring the Academy with two other subjugglators   
AC: :OO < oh nooooooo   
CT: D --> I believe he is completely sober now   
AC: :33 < i dont know what to say  
AC: :33 < i have to tell tavros   
CT: D --> They should never have attempted to fill a quadrant  
CT: D --> Tavros was an inadequate partner far outside of Gamzee’s caste   
AC: :33 < thats so mean  
AC: :33 < and hypocritical!  
AC: :33 < what about you and aradia?   
CT: D --> Aradia has b100 b100d in her veins now   
AC: :33 < aaaaaaaaaargh  
AC: :33 < you are so dumb equius  
AC: :33 < and you are in such denial!!!!  
AC: :33 < it makes me so angry sometimes   
CT: D --> I am not dumb and I am not in denial  
CT: D --> My relationship with Aradia

You stop, unsure how to continue. You have no idea how to end that sentence.

AC: :33 < yes??   
CT: D --> I am tired and I still have work to do  
CT: D --> I will speak with you tomorrow   
AC: :33 < ok  
AC: :33 < bye  
AC: :33 < <>   
CT: D --> Good morning  
CT: D --> <>

You close the chat window and rise from the desk. You are very tired but perhaps you could spend a short while in your workshop. Everything is just so _simple_ when you’re working on robotics.

It’s not until you feel the breeze from the hallway again that you realize you have spent two hours hunched over your workbench. Aradia enters the room, bringing with her a whiff of hot air.

“Again?” she says.

You put down your tools and stand up. “Where have you been?” you ask her.

“Around.” She is leaning against the door frame, radiating heat from the outdoors. You want to touch her, but instead you just wipe grease from your hands onto a towel.

“When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me,” you say.

“I did,” she says lightly.

“Give me a _real_ answer.”

“I am not one of your robots, Equius.” Aradia is watching you with glassy red eyes.

You don’t really know where she’s going with this. “Of course you are. I built you.”

“You built this body.” She holds up a hand and examines it. “But unlike your other robots, you did not program my brain. This body is just… a suit I wear.”

You let out an incredulous huff of air. “Just a suit, perhaps, but without it what are you? Nothing at all.”

“A soul,” she says with a shrug.

“I gave you a way to interact with the physical world,” you say.

“I appreciate it, even if you didn’t have the noblest of intentions.”

“My intentions are always noble, by virtue of being mine.”

She shakes her head, exasperated and amused. And she’s right, she isn’t one of your robots. None of your robots can imbue their simple actions with meaning like she can. Even if you spent sweeps programming the perfect brain, it still wouldn’t have the effortless _life_ that she holds.

“I could leave this body at any time, you know,” she says. “I don’t have to stay here.”

“But you will,” you say firmly. “You are better off here, Aradia. You could never have achieved this station in life if you were still a rustblood. I may not have programmed your brain, but I made you _better_.”

She surveys you. Her blank eyes don’t move, and you can’t even tell where exactly she is looking. Her chest rises and falls in the smooth, seamless way you designed it to, unaffected by emotion.

“I’m dead,” she says finally.

“I know,” you say.

She taps her chest with one metal finger. “This isn’t blood in my veins, Equius. It doesn’t matter if it’s blue. I lived a redblood and I died one and this stuff that you put in my bloodpusher doesn’t make me a blueblood any more than wearing a tail makes Nepeta a meowbeast. I don’t care if it eases your sense of propriety, Equius. It’s fake.”

“You misunderstand me,” you say. “Your body was rustblooded, yes. But you always conducted yourself with grace and poise in a way that even those far superior to you in caste could never hope to supersede you. You were a blueblood born in a rustblood’s body. I was able to look past your base physical form and build you one more befitting of your soul.”

She laughs. “I can’t tell which is worse—that you honestly believe that, or that you’re intending that as a compliment. You are such a slave to the spectrum that you can’t even acknowledge that a redblood is capable of having admirable qualities.”

“Of course you’re capable—”

“I don’t have a blueblooded soul,” she snaps.

“The blue hydraulic fluid I gave that body is nothing but a symbol,” you say stiffly. You mop at the sweat on your brow with your greasy towel, frustrated at the obvious sign of your own discomfort. “I am aware that it is nothing more than that.”

“If I were still alive and redblooded, you wouldn’t be able to touch me,” she says.

“That’s not true.”

“No?” She holds out her hands, wrists upward. “Give me red blood, Equius. Replace my hydraulic fluid.”

“Don’t be foolish.”

“I don’t want this blue in my veins anymore. I never asked for it, and I’ve only tolerated it this long because I knew it didn’t mean anything.”

“I am not going to indulge your tantrum,” you say. “I gave you that body and you will be grateful for it.”

“I told you, Equius.” She lets her hands drop. “You didn’t program my brain. You can’t force me to feel anything, certainly not gratitude.”

“I shouldn’t have to force you,” you say. “You should simply obey.”

She laughs wryly. “I don’t even know how you can say that so sincerely, Equius. Maybe there are people out there who would be happy to roleplay submission with you, but I’ve never been one of them.”

“This isn’t roleplaying,” you say. You want her to understand you and it’s so _frustrating_ that she can’t see this. “Whether you’re a rustblooded troll or a blueblooded robot you are still beneath me and you will do as I say whether you agree with me or not, simply because _I ordered you_. I am your superior, Aradia. How I feel about you doesn’t change that.”

“I will do what I want, when I want to,” she says.

“What you want has nothing to do with this.”

“ ‘Consent’ is a word that means nothing to you, does it?” she muses. “It’s been obvious since you attempted to program this body to love you.”

“Why would I need your consent?” you say.

“Do you know why I pity you?” she says. “Not because you programmed me to. Not even because I know that you’re a good person at heart.”

“Then why?”

“Because this isn’t a power trip for you,” she says. “You don’t believe all this because you like bossing people around. You believe in the fundamental truth of the hemospectrum, and you believe that trolls higher than you have just as much right to do things to you without your consent as you believe you have that right to do it to anyone below you. I pity you for that, Equius. You let Gamzee murder you without even attempting to fight him off because you felt that he had that right.”

“As poor an excuse as he is for a highblood, he is my superior,” you say.

“And as wonderful as I am, I’m still your inferior,” she replies.

“Yes.”

“If you want obedience, build yourself another robot,” she says.

“I don’t want another robot. I want you.”

She sighs, a hollow sound from artificial lungs. “What you want is for me to change myself so that you don’t have to challenge your rigid worldview.”

“The world is what it is. I can’t change it, whether I want to or not.” You wring the towel in your hands. “It’s just the truth. I can’t stop believing in the truth because I find parts of it unpleasant.”

Red eyes stare at you. “Do you find it unpleasant?”

“Aradia. I’m not going to talk about this anymore. This is an inappropriate topic.” You put down the towel and straighten your shoulders. “I am going to sleep.”

She steps out of the doorway. You brush past her and head for the respiteblock. She follows you in silence, and stands in the center of the room.

You retrieve your sleeping clothes from the neat pile where you left them. “Please turn your back while I change,” you say.

She stands there, her hands hanging at her sides. “Do you really want me to obey you?” You can’t read the tone of her voice.

“ _Yes_.”

She turns her back. You wait a second, then change your clothes. You climb on top of the recuperacoon and glance at her.

“Are you going out again tonight?” you ask her.

Silence.

“Aradia.”

She doesn’t move from where she’s standing. You slide off the recuperacoon again and circle around to the front of her.

The light in her glass eyes has gone out. Her chest continues to rise and fall, and her body shifts itself automatically as its internal gyroscopes adjust her balance, but otherwise she is empty.

“Aradia,” you say. You turn, looking around the empty room. “Get back in that body.”

The room is silent. You have no way of knowing if she is still here. You don’t have lowblood powers. You can’t speak with the dead.

“Stop this,” you say. “This is not amusing.”

The robot stares blankly.

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” you say. “That was not my intention.”

It seems she intends to drag this out. You wait a moment longer, then abruptly turn away from the robot. You climb into your recuperacoon. The robot continues to stand there, swaying, unnervingly empty.

“Go stand in the other room,” you say. The robot walks out of the room, silently obedient. You watch it go, and then sink down into the sopor.


	23. Chapter 23

tentacleTherapist [TT] has started a group chat session

tentacleTherapist [TT] has added gardenGnostic [GG] to the conversation

tentacleTherapist [TT] has added grimAuxiliatrix [GA] to the conversation

TT: So.  
TT: Strategy.   
GA: Congratulations On Your Human Graduation Rose   
TT: Oh, thank you.   
GA: Did You Graduate As Well Jade I Am Not Certain How Your Human Education System Works   
GG: sort of! ive been home schooled since i was little!  
GG: i finished my home schooling a few months ago   
GA: Are You Visiting Rose Now   
TT: Everyone arrived today. We’ve been discussing strategy and I think your input would be very useful on this.   
GA: I Dont Know If I Can Help   
TT: You were the Sylph of Space in the game, right?   
GA: Yes   
GG: and i was the witch of space  
GG: i think thats why i was remembering things about the game before everyone else did  
GG: did you?   
GA: Not Really No   
GG: :/  
GG: you didnt have any dreams about it or anything?   
GA: I Sleep In Sopor Slime  
GA: We Cannot Have Dreams When We Sleep In Sopor  
GA: That Is The Point Really   
GG: oh! so maybe you would have remembered if you didnt sleep in sopor slime?   
GA: Perhaps   
GG: what do you know about the crack in the sky?   
GA: It Is Jack Noir Trying To Break Through  
GA: I Dont Think We Have Much Time Left   
GG: no, i dont think so either :(   
TT: We have been discussing what we think will happen when he does break through.  
TT: For example, where will he go? To our universe or to yours? Since we’ve both been experiencing the side effects of his attempts to break through, it’s hard to predict which universe he’ll end up in, or if he’ll only be restricted to one or the other.  
TT: I was wondering if we could use this to our advantage.   
GA: How   
GG: maybe we can break through the universes too! that way we can all be in the same place and have a better chance at fighting him when he comes through   
GA: I Dont Know If Any Of Us Can Fight Him   
TT: She said a better chance, not a good one. It will increase our odds, anyway.   
GG: i dont think we have much time to work on this problem through  
GG: since youre the other hero of space, maybe you can help me think of something??   
GA: I Can Try   


* * *

  
**Tavros**

You climb the stairs slowly, using your cane. Your shirt is clinging to your chest with sweat. It has been a looooong night.

The door to the apartment is hanging open in some vain attempt to circulate the air. You stop in the doorway, shifting your cane to your wrist. You don’t need it all the time, just the bad nights.

“Hey,” you say. Terezi is sprawled on the couch, dressed in nothing but a tiny pair of shorts. An air recirculator oscillates slowly on the table next to her, stirring her hair.

“Bluh,” she replies, not moving.

You go into the culinary block and fish an ice pack out of the thermal hull. You drape it over your horns, closing your eyes at the delicious chill, and then head back into the recreation block.

“No one’s home yet?” you say, lowering yourself into the opposite seat. You take the ice pack off your horns long enough to peel off your shirt, then put the ice pack back in place. It’s already taking effect. You can feel the coolness sinking through your body.

“Karkat’s not back. Nepeta’s visiting Equius,” Terezi says, making a face. “Equius is freaking out.”

“Aradia hasn’t come back yet?” you say. “Hasn’t it been five days?”

“Yes.” Terezi shrugs lazily. “They’re both stubborn.”

The stairwell door outside the apartment bangs and you hear Karkat stomp in. “I’m giving up,” he snarls, tossing his sunglasses onto the table by the door. “That’s it. I’m done.”

Neither you or Terezi move. Karkat storms into the ablution block and you hear running water. After a moment he comes back into the recreation block and glares at both of you.

“Ask me how my night went,” he says.

“How did your night go?” you ask him obediently.

“It was _fucking miserable_.” He bats at Terezi’s feet. “Make some room. And while you’re at it, put some clothes on.”

Terezi draws her feet up and Karkat drops down into the vacated space. The only concession he’s made to the heat is a short-sleeved t-shirt. He’s still wearing jeans, despite the fact that his mutant blood makes his body temperature run higher than yours, and his tiny horns are mostly ineffective at cooling him down.

“What happened?” you ask.

He sighs gustily, tipping back his head against the couch cushion. Terezi puts her feet in his lap.

“I was at the factory on the west end—you know the one. The one we didn’t get to last week. I found someone to let me into the dorms so I could talk to the workers there.”

“They didn’t want to hear it?” you venture.

Karkat raises his head again. “No, they thought the idea of a network was great. But when I was leaving, this one troll kept asking me what my hemostatus was, and when I wouldn’t tell him, he grabbed my sunglasses.”

You wince. Terezi raises her head.

“Did he see?”

“The nookwhiffer _spat_ on me,” Karkat says, sounding both furious and embarrassed.

“What!” you say.

Terezi makes a moue. “You’d think a slave would be a little more understanding,” she says.

“At least he’s _on_ the hemospectrum,” Karkat says. He hunches his shoulders and frowns down at Terezi’s feet in his lap. She wiggles her toes at him. “Anyway, I never gave them my name so he can’t report me.”

“We’ll get you eye lenses,” Terezi says firmly. “So it won’t happen again. It’ll be safer anyway when you don’t have to worry about wearing those sunglasses all the time.”

“But they’re so expensive,” Karkat says.

“Mostly because they’re so illegal!” Terezi agrees. “I know! But they’re important. I think we can pool our money.” She digs her heels into his thigh. “Now go to the ablution trap and wash all that stinky sweat off! You’re too hot and miserable to sit on this couch with me right now. I’ll call Nepeta and make her bring us dinner.”

“I’m too tired,” Karkat grumbles.

“Go. Ablute.” She kicks him. “Now.”

Karkat sighs and drags himself up, disappearing into the ablution block. Terezi takes her husktop from her sylladex and plops it down on her lap. You transfer your ice pack to your other horn, then pull out your own husktop. Gamzee’s name is grayed out in TrolliianExiile, as it has been for days.

\-- arachniid2Griip [AG] began trolliing adiio2Toreador [AT] \--

AG: You’re still friends with Megido, right?  
AG: Tell her to stop 8eing such a huge 8itch and come 8ack already.   
AT: tHAT’S, rEALLY SWEET,   
AG: Ugh no, I don’t care a8out Equius  
AG: It’s just soooooooo annoying when he’s moping around.  
AG: He’s never any fun anyway 8ut he’s less fun now!   
AT: wHY DON'T YOU, yOU KNOW, sPEND TIME ELSEWHERE,   
AG: Oh don’t get me wrong, I have so many friends!  
AG: 8ut there’s such a thing as too many friends, you know.  
AG: No wait, you wouldn’t know that, would you?   
AT: aRADIA, hAD A GOOD REASON,  
AT: fOR LEAVING,  
AT: sHE’LL COME BACK, wHEN SHE WANTS TO,   
AG: Whatever! It’s not like I care that much!  
AG: Since Equius is no fun right now, how a8out you have dinner with me instead????????   
AT: uM,  
AT: i THINK WE WERE PLANNING ON ORDERING IN,   
AG: They’re your hivemates, not jailers. You can leave them 8ehind and eat with me instead!   
AT: wHERE,   
AG: Hmmmmmmmm  
AG: I guess that is a pro8lem ::::p  
AG: I’m not eating at some gross low8lood place!   
AT: yOU COULD, cOME HERE,  
AT: i GUESS,   
AG: That’s even worse! Eating with Pyrope? I’d lose my appetite!   
AT: sORRY,  
AT: i DON’T KNOW, wHAT TO SAY,   
AG: Fiiiiiiiine.

\-- arachniid2Griip [AG] cea2ed trolliing adiio2Toreador [AT] \--

She goes offline. You stare at Gamzee’s name on the chumproll, willing it to come online. It fails to do so.

\-- adiio2Toreador [AT] began trolliing termiinallyCapriiciiou2 [TC] \--

AT: hI,  
AT: i KNOW YOU’RE BUSY,  
AT: bUT i WANTED TO TALK TO YOU,  
AT: aND MAYBE YOU’LL APPRECIATE THESE MESSAGES, wHEN YOU LOG IN AGAIN,  
AT: i KNOW i WOULD,  
AT: bUT THAT’S JUST ME,  
AT: sO IF THIS IS REALLY ANNOYING,  
AT: yOU SHOULD TELL ME,  
AT: wHICH WOULD REQUIRE YOU TO LOG IN,  
AT: aND TALK TO ME,  
AT: sEE,  
AT: i’M BEING MANIPULATIVE,  
AT: wHAT DO YOU THINK,  
AT: i DON’T KNOW HOW vRISKA DOES IT ALL THE TIME,  
AT: iT KIND OF MAKES ME FEEL BAD,  
AT: bUT ALSO i WANT IT TO WORK,  
AT: sO,  
AT: yEAH,  
AT: i’M GOING TO TELL YOU ABOUT MY NIGHT NOW,

You proceed to tell him about your night. You’ve been doing this every night so far. He has yet to respond. He probably hasn’t seen any of them yet. When he eventually logs in, he’s going to have an avalanche of messages. It makes you feel guilty, but not enough to stop.

Karkat comes out of the ablution block and disappears into the respiteblock that you share with him. He comes out again as you are running out of things to tell Gamzee. Here in the safety of the apartment, he’s actually wearing shorts instead of long jeans, although he still refuses to go shirtless. His grub scars are red, and even though it’s a muted color that could easily be mistaken for a typical redblood, he’s still abnormally self-conscious about it.

“Any response?” he says to you, dropping back down onto the couch next to Terezi.

“Uh, from Gamzee? No.”

“He doesn’t reply to me either,” he says.

Terezi presses her feet against his bare thigh, then frowns. “You’re no fun to cuddle when the weather is this hot,” she groans, pulling her feet away again. She reluctantly rolls up onto her knees to grab a glass of ice water from the table by the couch. You see Karkat staring at her bare back, looking heartsick. For someone who loves giving people advice on their quadrants, he is terrible at managing his own.

In the hallway comes the sound of two arguing voices. You all turn to look. Nepeta comes bounding into the apartment, still wearing her Academy robes, her mouth pressed into an angry line. If she were a meowbeast, all her fur would be standing up. Behind her, Vriska saunters in.

“Hey guys!” she says cheerfully. Her mane of hair is piled messily on top of her head, and she’s wearing a tight tank top and low slung cargo shorts. You scramble to find your shirt, and see Karkat shoving his sunglasses onto his face.

Terezi has frozen where she was on the couch. “Nepeta,” she says. “I told you to stop dragging home everything you find in the street.”

“She says Tavros invited her,” Nepeta says, glaring at you. She puts two paper bags down on the table.

“I didn’t think, uh, she was actually—” you start, yanking your shirt out from under your chair where you had abandoned it earlier.

“Pupa,” Vriska says gleefully. She crosses the room in two strides and flings her arms around you, leaning on the arm of the chair. “You sure know how to make a girl feel appreciated.”

You grip your shirt anxiously in your hands until she lets go of you. “I just mean that, um, you didn’t seem like you wanted to eat, you know, lowblood food,” you say.

“Of course I don’t. That’s why I bought dinner!” She sits on the arm of the chair, leaving her robotic arm slung around your shoulder. “Nepeta’s too green to get the good food. You all should be grateful I was around to get you something great.”

“Thanks, spiderbitch,” says Karkat. “Now you can take it and go.”

Vriska smirks at him. Karkat’s hand reaches jerkily up to his sunglasses and he pulls them off his face. His red eyes widen and then narrow in fury when he realizes what she made him do.

“No wonder you’re anhemonymous,” she says with a delighted laugh. “I should have guessed you were a freak.”

Terezi stands up and crosses her arms firmly over her chest. “I don’t care if Tavros invited you. His name isn’t on the lease. Get out of here, Vriska.”

“Nah,” Vriska says, casually curling one hand around the root of your left horn. “It’ll be more fun if I stay. Don’t you want me to stay, Pupa?”

“Yes,” you say unwillingly.

Terezi’s face remains unimpressed. “I’m the only one here you can’t mind control, so guess what! My vote counts the most. Go.”

Vriska abruptly scowls. “Jeez. It’s just _dinner_. It’s not like I’m moving in. What is your problem, anyway? Remember how you stabbed me in the back? I think you owe me this much.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Terezi says, but her expression wavers slightly.

“I mean you guys are harping on me about ‘remorse’ and ‘regret’ and ‘making things up to people’ all the time so I figured you’d actually be into that sort of thing, you know?” Vriska presses, obviously seeing her opening. “I mean, unless you’re a _hypocrite_.”

“I certainly don’t owe you dinner for stabbing you in the back.”

“No, but it’s a start!”

Terezi sighs, her shoulders sagging a little. “Okay, fine. Just let go of Tavros. And no mind controlling anyone.”

Vriska lets go of your horn and slides off the arm of the chair. “I’m starving,” she says.

You pull on your shirt as soon as she’s away from you. Nepeta starts unpacking the bags of food. Terezi disappears into her respiteblock. Karkat puts his sunglasses firmly back on his face.

“How do you live like this?” Vriska asks, hitching one hip against the counter that leads into the culinary block. “I mean I could fit this apartment into my own _twice_ , and I live alone! Don’t you all get claustrophobic?”

Terezi comes out of the respiteblock and holds out money to Vriska. “For dinner,” she says calmly.

Vriska waves a hand. “It’s not like it was expensive. You probably need that money to keep from starving or whatever.”

“We’re not poor,” Terezi says.

“ _You’re_ not, but you have starving mouths to feed.” She grins at you. “Aw, Pupa, you put on your shirt! That’s a shame.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Karkat grumbles, joining Nepeta in unpacking the food. He peels a lid off one container and sniffs it suspiciously, then shrugs and puts it down.

There isn’t enough room at the table in the culinary block for you all to sit, so when Terezi fetches a stack of nutrition plateaus, you all get your food and return to the recreation block. Terezi immediately reclaims her spot on the couch and is joined by Karkat and Nepeta, which leaves the two armchairs for you and Vriska. As soon as you sit down, though, Vriska hops back up onto the arm of your chair.

“Oh Tav, Equius said he saw Gamzee the other night,” she says, balancing her plate on her knee. She reaches out and rubs her thumb over the velvet nap at the base of your horn as if you’re her pet or something.

You abruptly stand up, narrowly missing her with your horn. “Sorry,” you mutter, and move to the opposite chair.

Karkat snickers. Vriska stares after you in surprise, then shrugs and slides into the chair you just vacated. “Touchy subject?” she asks, recovering her aplomb. She picks a spicy dumpling off her plate and tosses it into her mouth.

“I already told him,” Nepeta says. “Days ago.”

“What has he said about it?” Vriska asks. She shoots you a glance out of the corner of her eye and you know that she knows that you haven’t spoken to Gamzee since well before he showed up at the Academy of the Ruffiannihilators.

“Is that why you’re here?” Terezi says with a sudden cackle. She points her fork at Vriska. “You think his quadrant is open again!”

“What? No!” Vriska replies, looking stricken. “Ew! Me and _Tavros_?”

“It’s only what you’ve been after since we were six,” Terezi says.

“You, um,” you start. “You _did_ kiss me at Equius’s hive.”

“Shut up,” she snaps at you, while Terezi laughs. “I _also_ turned you in to the drones.”

“That’s just your way of flirting,” Karkat says.

“Tavros is damaged goods,” Vriska snaps. “The only troll who ever wanted him was drugged stupid. That’s why Gamzee stopped talking to him the second he sobered up.”

“Fuck you,” you say.

Everyone stares at you.

“Excuse me?” Vriska says, her eyebrows shooting up. You resist the urge to shrink back into your seat and apologize.

“He’s not stupid and he hasn’t abandoned me,” you say instead.

“I’m a little impressed,” Vriska says. “I mean, I notice you didn’t contradict me where I said you’re damaged goods, but otherwise that was really forceful, Pupa. Kudos.”

“Uh, thanks,” you say, and falter.

“Damaged goods?” Karkat says. “Says the troll with one arm and one eye.”

“Says the mutant _freak_ ,” Vriska snaps back at him immediately.

Terezi raises a hand, still looking amused. “Blind,” she offers.

“Perfect in every way,” Nepeta says proudly.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Vriska says impatiently. “It’s so sweet that you’re defending him. I mean, he only murdered Equius and Nepeta. It’s not like he killed _you_. That would be _completely unforgivable_.”

“Gamzee was out of his mind,” Karkat says.

“And _I_ was acting in self defense.” Vriska points at you. “He was running at me with a lance!”

Nepeta growls. Her eyes are narrowed at Vriska. “Tavros isn’t the one who gets to forgive Gamzee for that,” she says, her fists clenched on the arm of the couch. “Not Karkat either. Me and Equius are the only ones who have a say in whether he gets forgiven and I don’t care what Equius thinks, I’m _not forgiving him for that_. So _shut up_ about how unfair this is, Vriska.”

“Fine!” Vriska says. “So then maybe all of you should shut up about what I did to Tavros because he’s the only one who gets a say in whether I’m forgiven!” She looks at you. “What do you say, Pupa? Are you still holding a grudge?”

“Um,” you say.

“It wasn’t even in this stupid timeline,” she adds. “It’s basically like it never happened at all.”

“I _did_ attack you…” you say.

“Like she was really in fear for her life,” Karkat scoffs. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I guess she could have flown away if she was really in danger,” you agree. “I didn’t have the best control over my legs then.”

“I don’t even see why any of this is such a big deal!” Vriska says. “Okay, so I murdered you in some abandoned timeline in another universe. Who cares? You’re alive now. I paralyzed you, but look, you have a kickass pair of legs right here that are probably a lot better than your old ones. I turned you in to the drones but it worked out better because if they’d classified you, you’d probably be working in a factory right now! Basically I made your life better in every way, even if it didn’t seem that way at the time. You should thank me!”

Karkat starts to respond and Terezi shushes him, looking at you. You look down at your knees awkwardly. You don’t even know what to say.

“You make, um, kind of a good point,” you say.

“There,” Vriska says, pleased. “See?”

“But, um,” you add. “Can I just say something?”

“Go on.” You know she just rolled her eyes even though you’re not looking at her.

“Those things that happened? Just because I’m not dead or in a wheelchair or whatever right now doesn’t mean that, you know, it wasn’t a thing that happened.”

She shrugs, slouching in her chair. “So? As long as everything works out, who cares?”

“But you can’t just, um, pretend it never happened. You can’t erase it. I know you want to but just because you believe it hard enough doesn’t make it true.”

“Hypocrite,” she says, glaring at you.

“What?”

“In the game, the second you woke up on Prospit, you spent the rest of the game asleep so you could fly all around and pretend you weren’t actually a pathetic broken troll. You wanted to forget it just as much as I do, and look! Now you have robot legs so you _can_! But you’re not letting _me_ forget it.”

“Actually, I think what you said, just sort of proves that I know what I’m talking about. Also, I was six.”

“I was a stupid wiggler too! Maybe you shouldn’t keep holding me responsible for things I did when I was that young!”

“We’re adults now. So maybe it’s time to, um, accept the consequences of your actions?”

She laughs. “Consequences? Are you planning revenge or something?”

“No,” you say. “But I’m not going to forgive you.”

Terezi bursts into applause. Vriska scowls at her. “You’re only saying this crap because they’re watching,” she snaps at you. “It’s what they want you to say because all of them hate me and they always have, and you’ve never been able to form an opinion of your own.”

“If you want me to tell you what you want to hear, you’ll have to make me do it yourself,” you say.

She shoots to her feet, spilling her food on the floor. “Bite me, Pupa. This is so stupid. I am trying to move past all this! You’re the one that’s holding the stupid grudge. I don’t know why you all are so obsessed with hating me for stuff I did sweeps ago. Get over it! Grow up! Move on!”

“But it’s not really moving on, is it?” Terezi says. “It’s just resetting everything and then starting over so that you don’t have to deal with the consequences of what you did.”

Vriska whirls to glare at her. “I was going to tell you that I forgave you for stabbing me in the back, Terezi, but I guess I shouldn’t because then you wouldn’t _learn._ ”

Terezi sighs. “You’re missing the point, as usual.”

“The point is that it doesn’t matter how _sorry_ I am. You’re just going to keep _punishing_ me for mistakes I made, and nothing I do will ever make up for it!”

You wipe your sweaty hands on your metal knees. “You think it’s punishment because regret is sort of a painful emotion to have. Which I get. But you think if I forgive you, you won’t have to regret it anymore, because it erases whatever you did and you don’t have to think about it again.” You cautiously look up at her. “But that’s not really how forgiveness works? You kind of have to… actually deal with your problems if you want to get past them.”

Vriska’s fingers are clenched into fists. You can see hurt on her face, and that makes you feel really guilty. You hate seeing her hurt, even after everything. “How would you know, Mr. Abscond-at-the-first-sign-of-trouble?” she says, but there isn’t as much vehemence behind it as before.

“I, um. I guess I’ve sort of been…” You shrug. “Growing up?”

She snorts.

“Also, um, thanks for the food,” you say.

For one horrible moment, she looks like she’s going to cry. Then she takes a breath and squares her shoulders.

“You’re welcome,” she says flatly. “Just don’t tell anyone I bought all that for a bunch of lowbloods. It would be so embarrassing.”

“It would be a motherfucking disgrace,” agrees a voice from the doorway. You all turn.

The lanky form hunched against the door frame looks very tired, stripped raw with perigees of stress. But his heavy-lidded gaze is cold and clear and his mouth has been pressed into a flat, uncompromising line.

Gamzee.


	24. Chapter 24

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA] \--

GG: oh my god  
GG: tell me what your calculations were   
GA: I Infer From Your Panic That You Made The Same Discovery That I Did   
GG: omg omg omg  
GG: jack is probably going to get here on june 12!!!   
GA: If By June 12 You Mean The Nineteenth Day Of The Second Bilunar Perigee Of The First Light Season Then Yes My Calculations Were The Same   
GG: two days!   
GA: Yes   
GG: D: D: D:  
GG: we ran out of time!   
GA: We Have Two Days  
GA: He Is Not Here Yet   
GG: what can we possibly do in two days??   
GA: We Can Make Sure That We Are All Around To Fight Him I Guess  
GA: As Soon As He Breaks Through We Can Meet Each Other   
GG: you are so calm about this   
GA: I Am Not Calm  
GA: I Am Panicking  
GA: You Just Cant See It  
GA: :O   
GG: ok well um  
GG: dont panic  
GG: well think of something  
GG: i hope???  
GG: just make sure that everyone knows the plan   
GA: I Will   
GG: so  
GG: i guess  
GG: ill see you soon?   
GA: Goodbye

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA] \--  


* * *

  
**Eridan**

You sit at the desk in your respiteblock, hugging your knees. You’ve only just crawled out of the recuperacoon and showered, and your evening coffee is still steaming next to you, but you’re currently ignoring it in favor of the email you just opened.

It is short and to the point.

To: Ampora, Eridan  
From: xxxxx  
Subject: This evening  
Message:   
You have delayed long enough. We need the information from you tonight. We will see you at 7pm.

It’s currently 6:48. Since they failed to specify, you have no idea where they plan to meet you. If they expect you to show up below the waterline, screw them. It’s too early for this. You have to be at the military academy by nine, anyway.

Baneri has laid out your Academy uniform over the back of a chair, awaiting your perusal. You ignore it and instead sip your coffee.

You haven’t spoken to anyone on Trollian since you gave it to the sea dwellers. Honestly, you haven’t used it since the day you left Karkat’s kitchen. You just. It’s _difficult_ , okay? Things are confusing and you thought that if you gave it time, it would stop being confusing, but that didn’t seem to work.

Karkat is a mutantblood. You had expected him to be a rustblood and you were completely prepared to take that news with as little panic as possible, but this is a _completely different fuckin’ situation_. It’s been seven weeks since you found out and it still makes you sick when you think of it because that’s _proscribed_. That’s a step beyond the usual culling offenses. Equius would probably have an aneurism if he knew. You nearly did.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t Karkat, but you just really liked him. Is that so wrong? You liked him and while you can’t honestly fill a quadrant with anyone lower than cerulean, you still kind of might have entertained the possibility? And maybe the real reason you wanted to know his blood color so badly was because there was a faint possibility that he was really a limeblood like he sometimes appeared and you could have made that work.

“Your Magnificence,” Baneri murmurs quietly, standing at a respectful distance from you.

“What.”

“It’s five minutes to seven.”

You drain the last of your coffee and shrug. “So?”

“They’ll be here soon.” She doesn’t mention that you’re still in your dressing gown, but that part’s implied.

“They’re coming _here_?” You blink at the email, then look over your shoulder at her. She has been setting up an expansive breakfast on the sideboard against the wall while you were stewing over your email. Obviously she’s more in the loop here than you are.

“Yes, Your Magnificence.”

You close your husktop with a click and get to your feet. Your dressing gown drags on the floor. You’re really fuckin’ tempted not to get dressed at all. If they’re going to show up this early in the morning, they deserve to face the consequences.

But that doesn’t mean you’re willing to let them see you with your hair still dripping wet from the shower. You stomp off to the bathroom to finish your early evening routine.

By the time you hear Baneri let them into your block, you have wrangled your hair into something that still looks messy, but artfully so. You step out of the bathroom to find Lodopi dripping salt water onto your floor as he peruses the breakfast table. Mekena is sitting in an armchair. Wirsam is looking around the block in distaste.

“Surely you have serviceable quarters below the waterline,” Wirsam remarks.

“These are fine,” you say. You stalk over to the food and spoon yourself a bowl of tiny bay scallops.

“You don’t spend much time downstairs,” Mekena says.

“I’m busy,” you reply. You drop down into another chair and glower at them all.

“Careful,” Lodopi says mildly, sitting down with his food.

“I gave you the program,” you burst out. “A custom made chat client that bypasses Imperial surveillance is enough proof that he’s committin’ treason. You don’t need anything else!”

“Ampora,” Lodopi says. “Mediocrity is for land dwellers. If we can come up with a list of the pissblood’s co-conspirators, we will be commended.”

“I don’t even know all a them,” you say.

“So you do know some of them.”

“A few,” you say uneasily.

“Names.”

“Uh.” You stare into your bowl of scallops. “Well obviously twinArmageddons is the pissblood. And cuttlefishCuller is Fef.” It still feels like a betrayal of Fef to say that, even though the color she goes by is obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes. “Um. The redblood—apocalypseArisen—her name was Aradia Megido. She died three sweeps ago. He used to be flushed for her.”

“So it is capable of caste appropriate feelings,” Wirsam says idly. He’s still standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed.

“What about the mutant?” says Lodopi, stabbing a scallop on his plate with a fork.

You stare at him. “Uh. What?”

“The one with the mutant red blood. TurntechGodhead.”

“Oh. Him. I think his name was… Dave? Uh, Strider?” You pick up a little steam, since these are names you have no problem giving them. “Then gardenGnostic is Jade Harley, and ghostyTrickster is John Egbert.”

Mekena makes an interested noise. “That means he was lying and carcinoGeneticist is Vantas.”

That brings you to a dead stop. “What?”

“We spoke to turntechGodhead through your account and he gave us some information, but we suspected he wasn’t being truthful,” Lodopi says. “Do you know who he was referring to when he said ‘TZ’?”

“No,” you say numbly.

“GrimAuxilatrix must be Kanaya Maryam,” Mekena says. “She’s the Heiress’s moirail and jadebloods are rare enough.”

“I don’t think that, uh, everyone uses their real color on there,” you say.

“Do you know the limeblood’s first name?”

“The…?”

“Vantas.”

You swallow. You’re starting to feel a little nauseated. “Don’t think I ever talked to him.”

“What about the indigo or the blue?”

You straighten your shoulders. “I don’t think they’re really highbloods. Not a lotta highbloods go for Fef’s ideas, you know?”

“If they are highbloods, their names would be very valuable to us,” Lodopi says around a mouthful of salmon. “Lowblood insurrectionists are a caegar a dozen, but the real threats are the ones with political power.”

“Sorry,” you say. “I mean, I think they’re all pretty much lowbloods. They’re just people he knew.”

“The pissblood can’t have too much influence among the higher bloods,” Wirsam agrees thoughtfully. “Its main use to the Heiress is its talent with apiculture.”

“Yeah, he’s really fuckin’ good with computers.”

“Pissbloods often are,” Mekena says. “It’s why they make the best helmsmen.”

“If we don’t kill it, maybe I could install it into my ship,” Wirsam says.

You grimace. “I wouldn’t trust him not to figure out a way to blow it up.”

“There are failsafes,” Lodopi says indulgently. “Many of the helmsmen try to rebel at some point. We’ve learned to make do.”

“Did you not hear me? He’s _really fuckin’ good at computers_. He's not your average psionic.”

“It’s a pissblood,” Wirsam says. “It can be taught its place.”

“He’s Sollux fuckin’ Captor,” you say heatedly. “He beat me in a duel and that’s not nothin’. You’re stupid if you keep underestimating him just because he’s yellow.”

Mekena is starting to smile. “Interesting,” she says, directing the comment at Wirsam. “Do you think he’s waxing pitch, or is he just too proud to think a normal pissblood could beat him in a duel?”

“I’m not pitch for Sol,” you say through clenched teeth.

Wirsam’s lip curls in distaste. “I should hope not,” he says. “In any case, you won’t have to worry about him for much longer.”

“How much longer?” you say.

“Plans are in motion,” Lodopi says, setting his empty plate aside. “Your help has been appreciated. We have eight and a half names out of the sixteen. If we can track down the rest of this conspiracy, the Condesce will be pleased.”

At least half of those names are worthless to them. You feel a vicious pleasure in that knowledge, and you suddenly realize that you really hate these trolls. Really, honestly, platonically hate them, with their sea dweller snobbery, their condescension towards you and the way they refer to Sollux as ‘it’. Sollux may be a disgusting yellow blood who’s far too close with your ex-moirail, but underestimating him is only insulting yourself. If he really was as pathetic as they think, there would be no way he could oppose you so successfully. If you hold yourself in any sort of esteem—and you do—you’re forced to regard him with an equal amount of respect for being such a powerful rival.

Which, now that you think of it, is exactly why highbloods shouldn’t fill quadrants outside of their caste. _Not that you’re filling a quadrant._ When Feferi took Sollux as a matesprit, she was making him her equal.

“We’ll be in touch,” says Mekena, rising to her feet. Wirsam is already pacing toward the door. Lodopi gets up as well.

You don’t rise to your feet. “Great,” you say.

Lodopi doesn’t look pleased with your disrespect, but it seems to make Mekena smile. They follow Wirsam out of the room.

Baneri begins to clear away the dishes. You watch her, idly finishing your breakfast. When you’ve had enough, you leave your bowl on your seat and go to get dressed for the Academy. The Academy is for officers of the Imperial Fleet, and naturally only accepts indigos and purples, though the landdwellers are educated in a separate campus from the seadwellers. It means your classes are under water, so your black and violet Academy uniform is closely tailored and streamlined for swimming.

You used to believe in destiny when it came to romance, the idea that there is one and only one troll out there for you in each quadrant. You thought Fef was fated to be yours. You don’t think you believe in that hoofbeastshit anymore but if it is true, what does it mean when you fill a quadrant with someone outside of your caste? Does destiny line up neatly within social strictures? Isn’t a strong concupiscent pairing, even if it crosses caste lines, better for the slurry than a weak one that maintains blood purity?

Ugh. Normally you’d debate these questions with Kar, but. Well.

You leave your quarters and begin to make the trek through the palace to the staircases that lead below the waterline. You’re still early, so you take the long way, which keeps you above the waterline for most of the trip.

You’re just turning the corner to another hallway when you hear someone say “KN?”

Sollux has paused in the hall, holding a pile of linens. He frowns when he sees you.

“Thought I heard Kanaya,” he mutters.

You walk past him without acknowledging him. You hear him snort and then he follows at a safe distance. Maybe taking the long route wasn’t such a good idea, since it takes you past the servant halls. You do your best to ignore him.

When you step into the foyer with the main staircase, you realize your luck has run out. Feferi and Kanaya are right there at the top of the stairs, having that sort of conversation where both parties are in a hurry to leave but don’t want to stop talking. They’re not paying any attention to the trolls passing around them. Feferi is standing two steps down, with her ankles in the water. Kanaya is holding papers to her chest.

They both look so fucking happy.

You stop, planning to turn back, but Sollux is behind you, hesitating at the door that leads to the servant’s halls. He’s watching you. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

You step into the foyer and stride to the stairs. They both glance at you as you approach, and you see the wary unease that crosses their faces.

“I’m running late,” Feferi says to Kanaya apologetically.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Kanaya says with a curtsey. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

Feferi bites her lower lip. “Good luck,” she says.

You slow, hoping that Kanaya will turn away before you get there. Kanaya hesitates a second, then descends a step and hugs Feferi.

There is a pop of light, like a starburst across your eyes. You curse, jerking back and blinking rapidly. Someone screams, and it sounds like Feferi.

For a second in your head you see Feferi’s broken body in the horn pile, magenta blood splattered everywhere. You lunge forward before the sunbursts even disappear from your eyes, but when you get to the stairs, it’s not Feferi on the ground. It’s Kanaya.

Kanaya has a gaping hole in her gut where her organs used to be. She’s already dead, sprawled in a broken heap and staring up at the ceiling with wide, blank eyes. Jade blood runs out of her mouth.

“No—” Feferi howls, hauling her corpse up into her arms. “Kanaya, no.” She presses a hand over the wound in Kanaya’s gut but it’s large enough that Feferi’s hand can’t even cover it. “Kanaya!”

“Fuck, get down,” you say, grabbing Feferi’s shoulders. You drag her down three steps, and since she doesn’t let go of Kanaya, the corpse comes with you.

“Get off!” Feferi screeches at you, her fins flaring in anger.

“They weren’t tryin to kill _Kan_ ,” you spit, dragging her under. The stairwell water is already choked with Kanaya’s blood and it’s hard to see. Your gills take over your breathing and everything tastes jade. “Let go of her, Fef.”

“No!” Feferi screams. You pull them both down another step, under the surface.

The stairwell flares red and blue in a blinding flash. Barbed whips of psionic energy wrap around the three of you, dragging you to the top of the stairwell again. You burst out of the water.

Sollux is there, haloed in red and blue. A wall of psionic energy surrounds the top of the stairwell, making it impossible to even see the rest of the room. You know enough from your duel that not even a direct blast from Ahab’s Crosshairs will make it through that wall.

“It wasn’t me,” you say the second the psionic energy pries you away from Feferi and Kanaya. “It _wasn’t me_ , you _fuckin’ moron._ ”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Sollux growls at you.

There is a distant noise. Except it’s not really a noise. It’s… hard to describe. Reality momentarily seems to bulge around you, like something vast and terrible pressing through from somewhere else. The wall of psionic energy flickers and disappears. Blood abruptly spills from Sollux’s nose, dripping off his upper lip. He clamps his hands over his ears, hunching.

“Gl’bgolyb,” Feferi gasps in horror. “She knows I’m upset.”

She lets go of Kanaya and throws herself into the water of the stairwell, and in a flash she’s gone.

“Fuck,” Sollux says wetly. Yellow blood spills like tears from his eyes, and another trickle is making its way out of his ear. He sits abruptly down on the floor at the top of the stairs.

The room, you suddenly realize, is bursting with panicking trolls. Whoever the assassin was, they’re lost in the mob.

Kanaya is floating face down in the stairwell. You pull her up out of the water, tipping her face up. You close her staring eyes.

“Let go of her,” Sollux snarls.

“She was my friend too,” you say.

“She was your competition.”

“Well it wasn’t a fuckin’ _contest_ anymore, was it? Feferi made her choices.”

“I might believe that from _anyone but you_.”

“Like I care if you believe mrrkkk—”

The body in your arms shifts and a set of fangs sinks into your neck. You make an embarrassing gurgle, flailing a little. Sollux is staring with an utterly dumbfounded look on his face. Kanaya’s hands find the back of your head and she holds you in place while her throat works, sucking blood from the ragged wound her fangs have made in your throat.

“Kan,” you say, struggling to extricate yourself. “ _Ow_.”

Her body is still cooling but the blood has stopped flowing from the wound in her gut. Her skin is bleaching out like something left in the sun. Jade blood pulses in capillaries suddenly visible under flesh gone thin and pale as death. She pulls free of your neck with a wet pop and her eyes roll up to look at Sollux.

“Um,” Sollux says.

“Fuck yes,” you say, pushing Kanaya toward him. “Look at all that ugly yellow blood.”

To Sollux’s credit, he stays where he is while Kanaya crawls up the steps, her black hair plastered to her face with seawater. There is a gaping hole in her back. You can see her spinal column. Wet silk clings to the wound.

That could have been Feferi.

It _would_ have been, if Kanaya hadn’t stepped forward for that hug. Plans are in motion, Lodopi had said. That miserable _fuck_. You were stupid to think that they weren’t going to try to assassinate Feferi. They wanted a neat conspiracy to hand to the Condesce, and they were only using you to get it.

Kanaya sinks her fangs into Sollux’s neck, with a little more restraint this time. Sollux winces. You think you can see Kanaya’s flesh beginning to knit back together.

You descend the stairs. The sea swallows you. When you descend a few feet, you realize that mixed with the jade blood in the water are threads of magenta. Feferi had been injured as well. You think about going after her, but she’s probably halfway to Gl'bgolyb right now. Anyway, there isn’t nearly enough blood for a serious wound. She’ll be okay.

Right now, you have to deal with a problem.  


* * *

  
Lodopi is in the room where you first met the three of them, typing into a husktop, his hair moving gently in the water. He glances up, startled, when you enter.

“Ampora,” he says, frowning. He closes the husktop.

“I found out three more names,” you say, standing next to the chair opposite him.

His eyebrows rise skeptically. “Really?”

“Where are the others? You guys always travel in a school.”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you going to tell me or are going to waste my time? I have work to do.”

“Yeah,” you say. You equip Ahab’s Crosshairs. “So do I.”  


* * *

  
Lodopi’s husktop has a Trollian conversation already in progress.

FM: She underestimated the distance.  
JL: careful  
FM: That’s not treason. It’s a fact.  
FM: But it’s under control.  
JL: did anyone die  
FM: Not as far as I’m aware.  
JL: pity  
FM: It was a weak glub.  
FM: But the fact there was one at all means the situation wasn’t under control.  
FM: Once again I am only stating a fact.  
FM: It merely means that the Heiress has more control over Gl'bgolyb than we suspected.  
FM: Hello.  
FM: Lodopi.  
FM: Don’t be childish.  
FM: Are you still there.

You sit down in Lodopi’s seat.

JL: im here  
FM: Where did you go.  
JL: ampora came to visit  
JL: he gave me names  
FM: Names.  
JL: big ones  
FM: Tell me.  
JL: id rather not talk over trollian  
FM: Why not.  
JL: like i said  
JL: big names  
FM: Okay.  
FM: I will be there soon.

You take a chance.

JL: mekena  
FM: What.  
JL: bring wirsam   


* * *

  
“Her Majesty doesn’t want visitors.”

You stand in front of Feferi’s doorman, your hands on your hips. “She’ll make an exception for me.”

“I’m sorry, Your Magnificence.”

“Ask her.”

The doorman is starting to look extremely uncomfortable. “She said no exceptions.”

The door behind him opens. Feferi stares out at you both. Her eyes look hollow. The doorman straightens.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he starts.

“Take his strife specibus and let him in,” Feferi says. She disappears again.

The doorman looks at you. You sigh and give him your strife specibus, as much as it kills you to give up Ahab’s Crosshairs even for a second. Then you follow Feferi. The doorman shuts the door after you.

Kanaya is sitting on the couch, wearing one of Feferi’s dresses. She looks thinner somehow, hungrier, with a phosphorescent sheen to her skin.

Sollux is sitting at the other end of the couch, looking a little ill. He has two bite marks on his neck. You only have one and you kind of feel like shit, so you could sympathize, if sympathizing was something you were able to do for Sollux.

Feferi sits gingerly back down between them. She’s favoring her side. The gun must have grazed her as well. All three of them watch you warily.

You stop in front of them. “They wanted to stop your project,” you say.

“If you’re going to say ‘I told you so’—” Feferi starts.

“They wanted to stop your project so I gave them TrolliianExiile.”

“You _what _?” Feferi exclaims.__

“Knew it,” Sollux mutters. Kanaya closes her eyes and sighs.

“Are you here to tell us that you are going to sell them out?” she asks.

“No,” you say. You decaptchalogue Lodopi’s head. It drops to the floor with a thump. It is followed by Mekena, then Wirsam. “I’m here to tell you that these were the ones behind the attempt.”

You drop Baneri’s head last. It rolls across the rug. Feferi is staring down at the heads, stunned. Kanaya looks speechless. Sollux looks as if he’s been hit in the face with a club. Or, more accurately, a spade.

“You—” Sollux says, and then runs out of words.

“They were saying something about Gl'bgolyb, but I don’t know what they were talking about,” you add.

Feferi blinks, then tears her eyes away from the heads. She looks up at you.

“Thank you for your report,” she says. “You’re dismissed.”

“Fef,” you say.

“Eridan, if you think this erases anything—”

“I know it doesn’t,” you say immediately. You decaptchalogue Lodopi’s husktop as well. “Fuck, I _know_ , I’m _sorry_. Arrest me if you want. I’ll tell you everything I know.” You set the husktop on the floor by your feet.

“I’m not going to have you arrested,” Feferi says. “Jack Noir is coming and we need everyone.”

“He. What?”

“Don’t tell him that,” Sollux says. “He’ll run to join him.”

“We need everyone,” Feferi repeats firmly. “If we all survive, I’ll deal with this later, but right now we have bigger things to worry about.”

“Fef, you don’t understand,” you say. “Whatever this Jack situation is, I’m sure it’s important and all, but they _tried to kill you._ ”

“Jack will kill all of us, you dumb fuck,” Sollux says.

“They tried to kill Fef, which means they didn’t care about Gl'bgolyb,” you say. “They thought they had Gl'bgolyb under control. Why would they think that?”

“The Condesce is within range of Gl'bgolyb,” Feferi says quietly. “When I went out to calm Gl'bgolyb down, I could feel her. The Battleship Condescension is already here.”


	25. Chapter 25

\-- ghostyTrickster [GT] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

GT: i guess i’ll be meeting you for real soon  
GT: i don’t really know how it’s going to work out or if we’re even really going to be able to talk when it happens so i guess i just want to say some stuff right now  
GT: i consider you my friend and i’m glad we met even though it was under really weird circumstances  
GT: i hope that, even if we don’t get to meet in person, your life works out and things start getting better  
GT: um  
GT: i guess you’re not there  
GT: so... bye, i guess  
GT: hopefully i’ll see you soon

\-- ghostyTrickster [GT] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--  


* * *

  
**Gamzee**

Your motherfucking head hurts.

It was the worst after they stopped letting you have sopor. Those were the days you thought your head was going to split open like a wiggler coming out of his cocoon, except all that would come out of your skull would be the raw, white-hot pain that had replaced your think pan. Now, though, the pain can go away for days at a time. It only comes back on those times when you know even before you open your eyes that it’s going to be a bad day.

The sopor in your recuperacoon is a thin, colorless swill that tastes bitter and doesn’t do much for the dreams, either. You rub at your temples for a minute, squinting up at the opening at the top of the recuperacoon. There is a dull, knotted dread in your chest and a buzzing in your ears like the distant sound of cicadas. That means they’re already here. It’s time to get up.

You reach up and drag yourself out of the slime, poking your head up into the room. It’s empty for the moment. You haul yourself up to sit on the lip of the recuperacoon and then pause, holding your head while it throbs. It feels like a sausage in a very tight casing.

Downstairs, someone laughs. You rub at your face and then swing your legs over the side of the recuperacoon.

The shower has plenty of hot water. It starts to wake you up and relaxes the muscles in your neck enough that your headache abates for a moment. You brace your arms against the shower wall and stand with your face in the spray, open mouthed, letting the water pound down on you.

Finally someone bangs on the door to the bathroom so you turn off the water and dry yourself off. When you step out of the bathroom, Camsil Petram is standing in your respiteblock, his hands in his pockets, looking impatient.

“About fuckin’ time,” he says. “Thought you were turning sea dweller in there.”

You slouch over to your dresser and pull out your clothes. Your headache is on a slow burn in your skull. “Nah,” you say, dropping your towel just to hear Camsil make a sound of disgust. “Just lost track of time.”

“I’ll be downstairs,” Camsil says, and stalks out of the room.

The motherfucking subjugglators roam around your hive like they fucking own the place. No one owns these fucking hives. They just pass on down through generations of trolls on their way through the city. Right now, it’s yours. But your motherfucking indigo brothers act like this hive is their honeytrap and now that they have you caught in here, you’re theirs to do with as they will.

They want to make you a subjugglator like them, as if it’s your motherfucking HATCHRIGHT. As if you have no motherfucking CHOICE in the matter.

And you don’t.

When you’re dressed, you head downstairs. Camsil is lurking in the hallway. The subjugglators stand as the highest officials in the imperial police force that maintains the law on all planets in the Empire. Camsil is ten sweeps old and is only an apprentice subjugglator right now. It will be a hundred sweeps before he’s old enough to become a full subjugglator. He is only barely your senior, but since he always travels at the side of Subjugglator Xensir, he thinks he’s better than you.

“Lord Xensir is waiting,” he hisses at you as you come into the hall.

“I ain’t had breakfast yet,” you say with a yawn.

“Too late,” Camsil snaps.

Your head hurts too much to eat anyway. Camsil leads you to your own recreation block.

You can still hear the distant buzz of cicadas as you enter the block. The two subjugglators in there—Lord Xensir and his colleague Lady Samews—are sitting in the two armchairs, talking. Xensir looks annoyed, and that’s where the noise is coming from, as the psychic feedback of his annoyance horripilates your flesh.

“Makara,” says Samews, spotting you. Xensir turns and the intensity of your unease deepens. Your flesh feels like it wants to crawl off your body.

Your husktop is sitting on the table between them. You can see that TrolliianExiile is open. Xensir extends a claw to the screen, where you can see a few chat windows open with messages people have left since you’ve been offline. There is a lot of brown and gray.

“Who is this,” he says.

You slink across the room to the table and stare at the husktop. Right now, both Tavros and Karkat are offline. You’ve haven’t talked to them in a while. Xensir confiscated your husktop to keep you focused on your schoolfeeding, and your thinkpan has been too much of a jumble to request it back.

“Looks like just some fucking trolls who’re wondering where I’m at,” you say. You can see a fragment of the conversations.

AT: wORRIED ABOUT YOU,  
AT: bUT i HOPE EVERYTHING IS OKAY,  
AT: i WANT TO SEE YOU SOON,  
AT: mAYBE i CAN WALK BY YOUR HIVE,  
AT: aND SEE IF YOU’RE AROUND,  
AT: nO,  
AT: tHAT’S PROBABLY, a BAD IDEA,

CG: JUST ANSWER SOME OF YOUR MESSAGES ONCE IN A WHILE.  
CG: FUCK.  
CG: MAYBE I CAN GET THE OTHERS TO AGREE TO AN ATTACK ON YOUR HIVE SO WE CAN KIDNAP YOU.  
CG: EXCEPT YOU’D HAVE TO SLEEP ON THE COUCH BECAUSE I CAN’T REALLY SLEEP IN THE SAME RECUPERACOON WITH YOU AGAIN, MR. GAMZEE I-EXPAND-TO-TAKE-UP-EVERY-INCH-OF-AVAILABLE-SPACE-LIKE-SOME-SORT-OF-SLIME-MOLD MAKARA.

Just seeing those words makes your bloodpusher hurt. You want nothing more in the world than to go see your two best bros and never let go of them. They are yours in the way that this hive is not. When you picked them up in the VA you should have never stopped driving. The three of you could have gone feral, made a place for yourselves out in the wilderness. It would just be you and your flushbro and your palebro, and maybe some of the others, too, if they were amenable, all living together in some fucking happy place where you can bake all you want and not have to worry about chucklevoodoos and subjugglation and blood status.

No one would ever take them away from you, not to put them in chains or to cull them for being abominations. And when they succumb to their dirty blood lifespans and leave you still young, you’ll paint the MOTHERFUCKING walls with their blood

and you’ll

JOIN THEM

“Makara.”

You blink at Xensir.

“How do you know these trolls,” Xensir says.

You shrug, although your bloodpusher is beating fast and you feel ill. “Man, I don’t even _remember_ how we all up and met the first time.”

Xensir darkens. “Names.”

You look at the husktop screen again. “Which ones are we fuckin’ talkin’ about again?”

Samews pulls the husktop toward herself and closes the chat windows. She points a finger at your chumproll.

“CuttlefishCuller is Feferi Peixes,” she says. Her finger moves down the list. “CaligulasAquarium is Eridan Ampora. TerminallyCapricious is you. CentaursTesticle is…?”

“Man, where are you even getting these names?” you say. “My cuttlefish sister is the motherfuckin’ Heiress? Fuuuuck.”

“She used tyrian purple as her text color,” Xensir says stonily.

“No fucking _wonder_ ,” you say. “Man, that makes _sense_ , doesn’t it?”

Samews is actually starting to look amused. Xensir is less so, if the darkening specter of his chucklevoodoos is anything to go by. You can feel it almost like a physical weight on your shoulders, dragging you down. Your teeth hurt. Your bloodpusher is racing. You want to obey him, and since he’s a couple of hundred sweeps your senior, you almost have to, but you struggle to hold out.

“CentaursTesticle,” Xensir says.

“I think he’s an archeradicator,” you say. “He always types this D and then a little arrow thing like he’s shooting right through the words he’s typing.” _And when I strangled him to death with his own bowstring he just up and let me do it like it was my right._

“His name.”

The pressure in your head is bearing down. You want to answer. Even Camsil, standing by the door, looks like he’d answer Xensir if he could.

“Zahhak,” you blurt out. “I think his caste name is Zahhak.”

Samews makes note of this. “Okay. ArachnidsGrip.”

“Wait,” Xensir says. “Zahhak? Wasn’t that the name of the troll at the Ruffiannihilators? The one who gave the demonstration. Jasmap wanted him for his ship.”

“I wasn’t there,” Samews says.

“Equius. Equius Zahhak,” Xensir says.

“Nah,” you force yourself to say. “I just told you, he’s an archeradicator.”

“You spoke with Zahhak at the demonstration.”

You shrug. “He near punched that troll’s head clean off. It was fuckin’ _beautiful_.”

“We’ll look into it,” Samews says.

Where are they getting these names? You sure as fuck haven’t told them. They hadn’t even shown any interest in your chumproll until today. Someone must have told them.

“The gray one,” Samews says. “CarcinoGeneticist. What’s their name?”

Your mouth is dry. You know that Karkat is going by a new name now, and if you give them his old one, nothing bad will come of it. But. He’s your palebrother and you can’t fucking give him up even if he is (an abomination) safe. Even if he would want you to keep yourself in the subjugglators’ good graces.

(Even if he’s a mutant what ought to have been culled before he left the caverns.)

(Even if he doesn’t fucking TOUCH YOU unless you’re a MOTHERFUCKING DANGER TO OTHERS.)

“Fuck if I know,” you say.

“He knows yours.”

“He’s paranoid,” you say. “He’s fucking anhemonymous, isn’t he?”

“Vantas,” Samews drawls. “That’s the name we heard.”

“He’s lime?” you say, tripping over your own tongue.

“That wasn’t apparent when you slept in the same recuperacoon?” Xensir asks, raising an eyebrow.

“We were wigglers,” you say. You think of him curled up in the recuperacoon with you, grumpily letting you into his personal space as you wrapped yourself around him. He was hot as a furnace. It wouldn’t have been hard to tell he was a mutant from that, if you hadn’t already known. (It wouldn’t have been hard to wrap your hands around his trusting throat.)

The pressure in your head suddenly increases. You think that Xensir is upset with your answer but when you look at him, he looks startled. He shoots Samews a look. She frowns at him, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“The fuck was that?” you say.

Xensir’s palmhusk chirps with a message. He takes it out and glances at it, then shakes his head at Samews.

“We’ll finish this discussion later,” Samews says, getting to her feet. Xensir gets up as well. The end to the conversation is so abrupt that you’re startled. Xensir looks grim, but his irritation isn’t focused on you now.

Samews captchalogues your husktop. “Bring your clubs,” she says to you.  


* * *

  
The palace has been locked down when you arrive. Servants are huddled into uneasy groups, and guards stand at every entrance. When the four of you step into the main foyer, you see shattered marble and a spill of slick jade blood. You recognize that blood (you can see the streak left on the floor in the computer lab, a bright green smear without a body). There is no body this time, either.

There are more subjugglators here. The palace is spilling over with uneasiness, with darkness gathering in the corners. One of them approaches Xensir.

“She’s confined to her quarters,” he says. “Her guards are loyal to her.”

“What shade,” Xensir asks.

“Blue.”

Xensir shrugs. “They’re not a problem, then. The moirail’s dead?”

The indigo hesitates. “In a way,” he says.

You remember the game. Long fucking hours with nothing but the imps for company, lounging in the Land of Tents and Mirth. Everyone was so busy with their own lands and puzzles. Tavros had teamed up with Vriska, which made a slow heat of something like anger burn inside you because you just knew your spidersister was up to no good with your flushbro. Tavbro was a troll who just wasn’t built to hate, and Vris-sis had done enough already.

And Karkat was so busy with leading all of you, trying to keep everyone from killing everyone else, like he was feeling ashen for the whole lot of you. The only messages you got from him were the ones trying to persuade you to get off your glutes and start solving your puzzles, and you just knew that he was trolling everyone else about the same thing.

It’s not that you got lonely. A brother can’t get his yearn on for something he never really had to start with. But when the sopor runs thin and you don’t have anything else to plug up that empty place in your thinkpan, it gets hard to distract yourself all on your own. You start thinking that maybe the reason you don’t got no one else is because they’re not good enough for you. You don’t need their shitblood kisses. Everyone below you is a peasant and everyone above you is a fish and there you are, last of your kind, pinnacle of your species, final disciple of the Mirthful Messiahs. And everyone needs to be put in their place.

It was so _easy._

Everything about it is so easy. It makes _sense_. Putting motherfuckers in their place is what you were _hatched_ for. It feels good deep in your bones to heft a heavy club and feel it connect with a skull. To focus your anger into a sick black gloom that gets into a brother’s thinkpan and turns it all upside down until he can’t do anything but obey. To keep the colors of the lowbloods all inside the lines so they don’t up and think they can do what they want.

The subjugglators took you to the Academies and you watched all the young trolls training to take their place in the fleet, each caste in its place like paints in a box. You know enough about blood to know that if you mix all the colors together you get a soupy kind of mud. It’s not the beautiful orange-chocolate of your flushbrother. It’s the color of egalitarian filth.

“It doesn’t matter,” Xensir says. Your attention returns to the conversation at hand. You realize that you’re all standing by the stairs, over the puddle of blood. There’s more than just green here, you see now. There’s splatters of mustard here too, and a dainty smear of tyrian. When you blink, you’re back in the computer lab again, in the aftermath of a massacre. Because that’s what you get when you put a bunch of highbloods in with lowbloods—you get a rainbow palette of paints to work with.

“What happened?” you say. You feel distant, like you get sometimes when the hole in your thinkpan starts to ache.

Samews takes pity on you. “There was an assassination attempt,” she says in the voice of someone explaining something to a wiggler. “An unsuccessful one.”

“Lot of blood,” you say.

“Not enough,” says Xensir sourly. He sighs and looks at Samews. “Well. We’ve already started. We might as well continue, and take care of the loose ends later.”  


* * *

  
You end up spending most of the evening at the palace. Xensir insists you stay at his side for the entire evening, even if that means spacing out while he talks to endless indigos and bluebloods.

Your thoughts return to the pool of blood. There was an assassination attempt on Feferi. Kanaya was injured, but if you know that jadesister, a little death can’t keep her down. You haven’t been paying that much attention to what’s been going on at the palace, but you know the subjugglators are loyal to the Condesce. They won’t stand for your cuttlefish sister posing a threat to Her Imperious Condescension. Especially not if Feferi is trying to upset the natural order of things and bring the nobles down with the filth and you are NOT

going to KEEP DOING THIS

You think of Tavros. Your beautiful flushbrother who has sent you so many messages in the last few days. He survived being broken. He survived being cut in half and sent through the grublands on metal legs. He survived the imperial drones and the beasts, and he’s managed to live in this city even though most trolls of his blood color are taken as slaves, and he’s still working to help other people. If you had to think of a stronger troll, you wouldn’t be able to come up with another name. And he’s a shitblood. The most amazing troll you know is a shitblood and the fact that he’s amazing and the fact that he’s a shitblood are two incontrovertible but not mutually exclusive facts.

You know trolls are good no matter what color they’ve got in their veins. You know fine specimens of trolls from nearly every spot on the hemospectrum. It’s just that your thinkpan gets all muddled and you start thinking the wrong way around and it is so HARD

to THINK

with this MOTHERFUCKING PAIN

You shake your head and focus again as Xensir leads you and Camsil down another hall in the palace. You hear screaming up ahead, and enter a ballroom in time to see a group of blueblood guards culling a mismatched set of blues and teals and even a few greens. Servants, you realize. Most likely servants who had shown too much support for Feferi. Whatever nominal respect had been shown to the Heiress up until now has been officially revoked. The assassination attempt has signaled a sea change in sentiment here. There will be no more support for her nonsense.

Xensir surveys the scene with approval. “Petram, stay here and report back to me if anything changes,” he says to Camsil brusquely. “Makara, you’re coming with me.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, glad to get away from the screams of the servants. He leads you out of the room.

The VA is waiting for you in the underground tunnels. Once you get in, Xensir heaves a sigh. He pulls out his palmhusk and checks his messages. You sit awkwardly next to him, your hands on your knees.

“Hivestem two forty-six in the noble quarter,” Xensir says to the driver. The VA pulls away from the curb and starts down the promenade. It’s late enough in the night that academy classes have ended, so there are many trolls out and the tunnels are full.

You ride in silence. Your thinkpan throbs. You keep thinking you can taste blood, and it’s not your own. But every time you lick your lips, there’s nothing there. Xensir is completely uninterested in you, and spends the ride typing furiously into his palmhusk.

You rub at your temples. The VA comes to a stop in front of a block of hivestems. Xensir puts away his palmhusk.

“Come on,” he says as the driver opens his door.

It’s a hivestem like any other, you guess. The doorman lets you both in without question and you take the elevator. You stop on the fifth floor in a small foyer with doors leading to two apartments. Xensir pounds on one of the doors impatiently. After a long moment, there is noise on the other side of the door and it opens.

_Shit. Shit shit shit shit SHIT._

Equius Zahhak stands holding the door open. His expression slips from distracted irritation to flat shock and he opens the door wider, stepping back. “My lords,” he stammers. “I’m sorry it took me so long to answer, I was in the workshop—”

Xensir sweeps past him into the apartment and you follow. Equius wrings a oily rag in his hands, looking deeply uncomfortable. There is red fluid all over his hands and the rag.

“Do you live here with anyone else?” Xensir asks.

Equius glances toward a doorway. “No, highblood,” he says.

Xensir catches the glance and strides toward the doorway. You and Equius both follow. It’s just a workshop. There is a robot lying open on the workbench. Her chest—it’s obviously a her, and if you were to guess, it’s probably Aradia—is wide open, with a snarled tangle of wiring like veins sticking out. There is red fluid on the robot, and on Equius’s hands.

Xensir looks at the robot, then at Equius. “There are red-blooded slaves in the market,” he says. The curl of his lip is enough to broadcast his distaste.

Equius flushes. “It’s just hydraulic fluid, my lord” he says stiffly.

Xensir gives the rest of the workshop a once over, then leaves the room. Equius glances at you, looking uneasy. You follow Xensir out of the room.

Xensir stalks through the recreation block, which is almost obsessively neat, although there is a messy stack of Nepeta’s favorite movies by the television as if she had just been going through it. You can’t imagine Equius would leave that untidy for long so she must have been here recently. Xensir heads into the respiteblock and you and Equius follow.

The respiteblock is as tidy as the recreation block was. On a desk sits Equius’s husktop.  It is off. Xensir turns it on and it boots up to a login screen. There are two accounts on it: centaursTesticle and apocalypseArisen.

“You said you lived alone,” Xensir says.

Equius hesitates. “I do,” he says carefully. “That account was for my. Uh. Former kismesis. She doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Name?” Xensir turns his cold indigo gaze on Equius. There is a faint cicada-whine of dissonance in the back of your head.

“Aradia Megido,” Equius says.

“A redblood.”

“Yes, my lord,” Equius says very quietly.

Xensir points at the husktop. “Log in,” he says.

Equius sits down at the desk and inputs his password. Xensir stands over his shoulder to watch. Equius looks as if someone has replaced his spine with a metal pole.

“Open up TrolliianExiile,” Xensir says. Equius complies. The list of names pops up. Your own is on it, grayed out. In fact, only a few of the names are currently online.

“Do you know the real identities of the trolls on this list?” Xensir asks.

Equius stares at the screen. “Yes, my lord.”

Xensir points to the screen, his finger moving up the list from Feferi to Eridan to you to Equius and then stops on Vriska. “ArachnidsGrip.”

There is a pause. The whine of Xensir’s chucklevoodoos increases. It feels like someone is slowly flaying the skin from your bones a millimeter at a time. Equius’s shoulders hunch in like he is collapsing from the inside out.

“Her name is Vriska Serket,” he says.

Xensir types into his palmhusk. “Next,” he says.

The next name on the list is gallowsCalibrator. Equius is frozen. The little hairs that have escaped his ponytail are damp with sweat. He stares at the screen.

You know what’s going on in his thinkpan because it’s going on in yours too. Terezi lives with Nepeta. Giving up any name on the rest of this list gives up everyone. Equius’s instinct to obey his superiors is in a deadlock with his instinct to protect his moirail.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Excuse me,” Xensir says flatly.

“I cannot give you that name,” Equius says. He is sweating heavily now, his eyes still fixed on the husktop screen.

“Give me the name, peasantblood.”

Equius’s teeth audibly clack shut and he shakes his head, obviously no longer trusting himself to speak.

The whine of power in the room increases like a swarm getting closer. It’s setting your teeth on edge. Equius, only a blueblood, is getting the full force of it. His hands have curled into fists on the keyboard, but you know that he would never dare raise them against either of you.

Xensir clamps a hand on Equius’s shoulder and hauls him around to face you both. Equius’s jaw is clenched.

“I said. Give me the MOTHERFUCKING name,” Xensir says. The shout makes Equius flinch. His blue eyes are wide but he slowly shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

The entire building must be feeling this. Xensir snarls into Equius’s face and you clamp your hands over your ears in a futile attempt to keep out the horror of his chucklevoodoos. There’s a sick, shrieking noise in your head that is FORCING you to ANSWER the FUCKING questions and you CAN'T DISOBEY. Even though Xensir is focused on Equius you CANNOT DISOBEY.

You have to. You HAVE TO.

Equius slides off the chair to his knees on the floor as if he’s curling in on himself. Xensir’s club appears in his hand, taken from his strife specibus.

“GIVE ME THE NAMES.”

“Terezi Pyrope,” Equius wheezes out, and for a second you feel SO RELIEVED that he has given Xensir an answer. The whining in your head reduces to an almost manageable level.

Xensir thumbs the keypad on his palmhusk. “Next name,” he says.

Equius squeezes his eyes shut and says nothing, but the damage has already been done. They’ll find Nepeta through Terezi, and then they’ll find Karkat and Tavros and it will all be over.

Your club materializes in your hand before you realize you’ve done it. Xensir has his back to you.

His skull caves in on his thinkpan just as easily as a lowblood’s does. It makes a dull, wet sound and he drops. Your club is painted in indigo and when you raise it over your head, it splatters a line of indigo across the ceiling. You hit him again.

Equius scrambles out from under the corpse. He’s drenched in indigo and you turn to him with a snarl, raising your club again. He holds up his hands, his palms open.

you want to

HIT HIM

you want

to

HURT

him

PEASANTBLOOD

Someone grabs the other end of the club, which you are still holding over your head. It is wrenched out of your grip. You turn in time to get a hard metal fist to your face.

You stagger backward, clutching at your nose. Red glass eyes stare at you blankly, and red hydraulic fluid spills from a still unfinished repair job in her chest. Aradia puts your club in her sylladex and waits until it becomes apparent that you are not going to attack again.

Equius is staring at Aradia in dumb shock. She crouches down next to him.

“Are you hurt?” she says.

“Aradia,” he says in wonder.

She leans over and picks up Xensir’s abandoned palmhusk. Its screen illuminates her face. She reads it, then holds it out to Equius.

“You’re bleeding,” Equius says to her. “I need to close up your chest. If you lose too much fluid—”

“You were too late, Gamzee,” Aradia says. Equius stops. He takes the palmhusk from Aradia. You sniffle once, wiping blood from your bruised nose, and then move to stand over them.

Equius’s mouth works on a few words that he is too cultured to say. You pluck the palmhusk from his hand before he can crush it.

DX: arachnidsGrip = Vriska Serket  
GS: Ok.  
DX: gallowsCalibrator = Terezi Pyrope  
GS: I’m sending a culling unit now.  
GS: Any more?

You throw the palmhusk aside and turn away from Equius and Aradia, heading for the door.


	26. Chapter 26

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA] \--

TT: I know that you’re busy right now so please don’t let me distract you.  
TT: I’ve been thinking about things.  
TT: I don’t know if we’ll all survive this. Wondering what may or may not happen is probably a futile pursuit.  
TT: I just wanted to say that  
TT: Hm.  
TT: Honestly I’m not sure what I wanted to say.  
TT: But I’ve enjoyed our conversations over these past few months.  
TT: If we both survive this, I hope we can continue them.  
TT: So.  
TT: Good luck.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA] \--  


* * *

  
**Karkat**

“Gamzee!” you exclaim, scrambling to your feet. Once you get to your feet, though, you hesitate. There’s an uneven look in his eyes that makes you uneasy.

“Time to get the fuck out of here,” he says. His eyes slide from you to the rest of the room. Tavros is on his feet already as well, and Terezi is rising, looking wary.

“What’s going on?” you say.

There are splatters of indigo on Gamzee’s shirt, and a smear of it as if he scratched his chin with wet fingers. “The motherfucking culling squad are on their way.”

You force yourself forward, past your own hesitation. “Are you hurt?” you say, approaching him. He shifts his weight off the doorframe and pulls you into a hug.

“Don’t worry, best friend,” he says. “It ain’t mine.”

“What do you mean, they’re on their way?” Terezi asks, her voice cautious.

He looks at her over your shoulder, his eyes heavy-lidded. “I mean they got your name half an hour ago.”

You swear and the room bursts into belated motion. Tavros disappears into the respiteblock. Terezi pulls on her shirt and shoes and grabs her cane. Nepeta captchalogues her husktop. Vriska is watching you all in bemusement. You already have everything you need.

“Are you okay, though?” you say to Gamzee. His forehead is pinched as if he has a headache.

“I will be,” he says.

“You’re a subjugglator now?” Vriska says behind you. “Have you culled any lowbloods yet?”

Gamzee’s gaze shifts over your shoulder again. “Everyone’s a lowblood to me,” he drawls.

You put your hand on his arm and push gently. “Let’s go,” you say as Tavros reemerges from the respiteblock. Nepeta’s husktop chimes in her sylladex. She takes it out while you head for the stairwell.

“Equius says there are VAs arriving downstairs,” she says as you enter the stairwell and start down. “He says he’s in the tunnels just outside.”

“Fuck,” you say. “We’re too late.”

“They’ll already have the back entrance covered,” says Terezi.

Nepeta frowns. “There’s another way out,” she says. “If we’re fast, we won’t get too burned.”

“But once we’re outside, where would we go?” you say. “We won’t make it far.”

“I’m not going out into the sun,” Vriska says. “Did you know what that could do to my _eyes_?”

“I think you mean ‘eye’,” says Terezi serenely.

“My hive is miles from here,” Vriska adds, ignoring Terezi.

“They got your name too, spidersis,” says Gamzee. “They’re already at your hive.”

“My name? What did I do?”

You laugh loudly. “They probably wouldn’t have to look hard to find something.”

“What did I do to someone the law _cares about_?” Vriska shoots back.

“Guilt by association,” says Terezi. “We’re all criminals. They’ll probably cull most of my neighbors too, for good measure.” Her voice is suddenly grim.

A door bangs in the stairwell and feet start coming up. You all reach the landing and Terezi shoves open the door to the second floor. You spill into the hall there and Terezi pulls the door shut behind you.

You wait while the feet ascend. Nepeta is typing into her husktop. Gamzee, standing next to you, draws a club. You see Nepeta’s fingers freeze on the keys. Terezi shifts her weight to stand between Nepeta and Gamzee. You wrap your hand around Gamzee’s wrist and he looks down at you with dark eyes. Tavros leans against Gamzee on the other side. Gamzee captchalogues his club again.

As soon as the last set of feet reaches the next landing up, Terezi eases the door open.  The six of you slip back into the stairwell. You leave Gamzee in Tavros’s care and move ahead of them. Tavros is slower than the rest of you, especially when he’s trying to keep his metal legs from making noise on the stairs. You can already hear the noise upstairs as the culling squad discovers your empty apartment.

The next landing is ground level. Vriska opens the door and you all file into the entryway, which is empty, since this entrance is unused during the light season.

“I’ll go first,” whispers Terezi, placing her hand on the door leading outside. She holds out her other hand to you. “Take my hand. We’ll try to go straight across to the alley. Even if there are VA's out there, no one’s going to get out into the sun to chase us.”

There are feet in the stairwell again. You have run out of time. You grab Terezi’s hand and Nepeta takes your other hand. Terezi shoves open the door.

Blinding white light spills into the room, enough that everyone flinches back for a second. Then Terezi is pulling you all forward and you’re stumbling out into the sun.

The city is foreign under sunlight. It’s so bright that you can only open your eyes to slits, but the glimpses that you can see are too washed out, too pale. And it is _hot_. As you stagger out into the street, it feels like you have entered a furnace. The skin of your face tightens in the heat and the air actually hurts your lungs when you breathe in. It’s not enough to burn you yet. That will take a few minutes.

You hear Terezi curse and then the daisy chain veers left. There’s a VA in the street ahead of you, windows tinted and doors closed. Although the doors don’t open, you feel a sudden flare of terror. Nepeta lets go of your hand but you barely notice because _oh shit you’re going to die, you have to stop running, you have to just curl up on the ground and wait for death to come—_

“Don’t let them get their fingers in your thinkpan,” you hear Gamzee say. Terezi yanks you forward hard. You stumble after her, but it’s so _difficult_. Your knees give out. You just have to—you have to sit down—

“This way!” someone shouts. It’s not Terezi. Is that… is that Aradia? She’s somewhere across the street, in the shadow of the hivestem there.

Terezi hauls you up again. “Come on,” she says, but you can hear the edge of panic in her voice.

“I can’t,” you rasp out. “Just let go.”

“Come _on_ ,” Terezi snarls. You drop down to the ground. Every part of you wants to curl up and die. Terezi drops too, breathing hard.

“Let go!” Nepeta is screaming. “Let go of me!” She’s struggling with Vriska, who is trying to pull her to her feet. Tavros and Gamzee are on the other side of her. Gamzee is pulling Tavros back to his feet, but Tavros is as limp as a doll, refusing to take his own weight.

“I’ll leave you here!” Vriska shouts back. “Ugh, just fight it off! I thought you were stronger than that!”

“We don’t have time for this,” says Aradia, wading into the fray. She grabs Nepeta’s arm, unfazed by the claws. “Let’s go.”

Your body is soaked in sweat. Chills are running through you, full body shudders that make it hard to focus. Nepeta looks wild-eyed and Tavros is sinking back down to the ground. Even Vriska looks nauseated.

Then the door to the hivestem opens again and you hear the whine of a laser rifle powering up. “Freeze,” bellows a voice. The terror in your head increases, and for just a fraction of a second, all of you do.

It’s long enough.

A beam of white blasts through the whole group, slicing clean through everything it touches. There is a thunderclap, and displaced air slaps you in the face. Nepeta screams once, a clipped sound. There is an afterimage of white across your eyes, and all you can see is the blurry impression of sheeting indigo blood as Gamzee wheels around to face the hivestem, his face a blank mask.

The full force of Gamzee’s chucklevoodoos is like falling down an elevator shaft. Everyone present save Gamzee collapses to the ground. You hear a laser rifle clatter to the floor. The pavement is hot enough to blister your hands but nothing in the world can make you get up. Gamzee steps over Tavros, walking back to the hivestem.

You are going to die here. You are going to be horrifically burned from the sun, if the laser rifle doesn’t get you first. You always knew that your life would end in culling. You should be grateful you made it this far into adulthood.

“Come on,” whispers Terezi, pulling on your arm. There are teal tears running from under her glasses but she is struggling to get back to her feet. It feels like someone is sitting on your shoulders, trying to force you back down, but you fight it off.

You see Aradia getting unsteadily to her feet as well. She’s dead, so the chucklevoodoos have no effect on her anymore, but the laser rifle certainly did. Her right arm and part of her chest and neck are gone. Her head lists slightly to the side.

On the ground next to her are Vriska and Nepeta and a swath of gore. Footsteps slap the ground next to you and suddenly Equius is there, dropping to his knees next to Nepeta. He touches her face with infinite care and then scoops her up into his arms.

You and Terezi make it to Vriska. She is curled around the cerulean gore of her chest. You can see bone. Her robotic arm is completely gone. Terezi takes her good arm and you take her legs. You haul her up and start for the alley.

Stepping into the shadows is like passing under a waterfall. It’s immediately cooler, although by no means cold. You and Terezi set Vriska down as Equius joins you. He has Nepeta bundled in his arms, and the front of his clothes are soaked in green. Nepeta is silent, her face pressed into his neck.

Aradia and Tavros arrive in the alley just as there is a thunderclap. You don’t want to look across the street, but you turn anyway, just in time to watch Gamzee fire the laser rifle into the VA a second time. His club is abandoned on the ground, dripping with indigo.

“We have to go,” says Aradia. “That wasn’t all of them.”

“Gamzee, come on,” you shout across the street. Gamzee turns his head and then starts toward you all with a heavy limp. You can see now that the laser rifle has taken a chunk out of his thigh.

Terezi crouches next to Vriska and slides an arm under her uninjured shoulder again. “Time to get up,” she says. Vriska grits her teeth, her eyes squeezed shut, but she sits up when Terezi helps her. Aradia gets on her other side and between the two of them, they get Vriska to her feet.

“It’s okay,” Vriska says hoarsely. “I’ve had worse.”

The eight of you begin to make your way down the alley as quickly as possible. It’s still so bright in the shadows that you’re all squinting, and your skin feels raw from that brief time in the sun. Gamzee steps into the shadows next to you, still holding the laser rifle. Tavros hooks his arm under Gamzee’s to help support his weight.

“Is my catsis okay?” he asks. You glance toward Equius’s grim face and Nepeta’s limp form in his arms. No one answers Gamzee.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Terezi asks. “I don’t think there’s anyone left with a hive we can hide in.”

“I spoke with Sollux earlier,” says Aradia. “They are trying to find a way out of the palace. There was an attempt on Feferi’s life earlier. They’re not safe there anymore.”

“Is everyone okay?” Tavros ask.

“Kanaya is a rainbow drinker now,” Aradia says.

“She… what?” Tavros says.

“Yeah, that, uh, happened before,” you say. “You weren’t around last time.”

“So then we need to find a place for all of us,” Terezi says.

You all reach the end of the alley. You’re at another bright, sunny street. You can barely look at it. It’s hard enough keeping your eyes open in the shadows. Gamzee is leaning on Tavros heavily. You move around to Gamzee’s other side to help take some of his weight.

The hivestems around here look down on you blindly. The windows are all shuttered against the constant sun, and the front entrances are out of service until the dim season begins. There must be hundreds of trolls around you now, but you can’t see them.

“Hiveless lowbloods live in the tunnels,” Aradia says. “There is an entrance two blocks from here. We can stay there until we think of something better.”

There is a VA engine in the distance. It spurs you all to step out of the shadows and begin your hurried trip across to the next alley. This trip goes better this time, although you can feel the impending doom of the subjugglators getting closer.

When you reach the shadows, Terezi and Aradia are nearly dragging Vriska. Her eye is unfocused. Aradia, too, is slowing down. By now she’s lost enough hydraulic fluid from the gaping hole in her side that her limbs are moving jerkily.

“Wake up,” Terezi says to Vriska. She and Aradia ease her down to the pavement. “I’ve done worse to you, and you made it through that.” Vriska doesn’t respond.

“We need bandages,” you say. “Tavros, do you have any more of that healing salve?”

“Not anymore,” he says. “It was only enough for a perigee.”

Three things clatter out of Equius’s sylladex. It’s a can of hydraulic fluid, a butane torch, and a scalpel. He doesn’t move from where he’s been standing, with Nepeta still bundled in his arms.

“You need to cauterize the wounds,” Equius says. His voice is very tight and controlled. “On both of you.”

Aradia tries to pick up the torch, but her motor control is shot. Terezi takes it from her and turns it on.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she says uneasily.

Equius shifts slightly, and then folds at the knees, sitting down on his heels. He doesn’t put Nepeta down. “Just follow my instructions,” he says.

The two of them set to work. Gamzee hunches slightly.

“If we’re all taking a break…” he says.

“Come on, sit down,” you say. You and Tavros help Gamzee sit down on the pavement. You’re still at the end of the alley, pretty close to the street and only two blocks from Terezi’s hivestem, but you won’t be moving any time soon.

Tavros takes a spare shirt from his sylladex and begins tearing it into pieces to use as bandages. You help him bandage Gamzee’s thigh, which is still bleeding heavily.

Terezi finishes tending to Vriska, and uses the rest of Tavros’s bandages on her. Then she looks up at Equius.

“Before I take care of Aradia,” she starts.

Equius shakes his head.

“You can’t carry her forever.”

“I can,” he says quietly.

Terezi pauses. You are all silent. A VA roars somewhere in the distance. Gamzee rests a hand on your back and you realize that you’re crying.

“Okay,” Terezi says. She lowers her head, then looks at Aradia. “Tell me what to do.”  


* * *

  
The tunnels are blessedly dark when you reach them. Aradia knows them well, and leads you all through sparsely populated side tunnels until you find the damp, ill-smelling crannies where escaped slaves and criminals avoid the notice of the culling squads.

You find a place to collapse and do so. Whenever you blink, you can see the afterimage of the sunny streets. Your skin hurts to the touch and your horns ache, and there is a sharp pain behind your eyes. You spent more time in the sunlight today than in the entire rest of your life combined.

None of you have anything to say. Vriska lays with her head on Terezi’s knees. She seems to be completely unconscious, but she’s still breathing, which is better than nothing.

Aradia is sitting next to Equius. Her husktop is open on the ground next to her, waiting for a response from Sollux and the others. She is stroking her fingers through Nepeta’s hair.

“She says she loves you,” Aradia says.

Equius inhales but doesn’t respond immediately. There is a long pause.

“I gave them names,” he says finally.

“Under duress,” Aradia replies.

His gaze shifts to her. “That makes no difference.”

“She doesn’t blame you.”

He looks back down at Nepeta and doesn’t answer.

Aradia’s husktop chimes. She reaches down and types something, then says, “They’re almost here.”

Within a few minutes, there are footsteps coming down the tunnel, echoing off the walls. You all tense warily, just in case, but when the four trolls round the corner, you recognize them.

Sollux stops and looks down at all of you. His neck is mottled with bruises shaped suspiciously like bite marks. “Wow,” he says. “You look worse than we do.”

“Oh no,” Feferi says. She’s dressed in nondescript clothes in an attempt to look less like the Heiress. She crouches down next to Vriska. “What happened?”

Kanaya moves into the center of the group and turns in a circle, looking around. She is as pale as death. Her skin seems to be giving off the faintest phosphorescent glow. “This will have to do,” she says.

Eridan remains standing where he was, looking awkward. He is dressed in an Academy uniform.

“Uh, hi,” he says to you.

“Hi,” you reply, looking up at him uncomfortably.

“Do for what?” Terezi asks Kanaya.

“The gateway to the other universe,” Kanaya says, not paying much attention. “Jack will be arriving soon, and when he does, we need to be ready to fight him on whichever side he appears.”

“Fight him?” Terezi says incredulously. “Like this?”

“There is no postponing it,” says Kanaya.

“We’ll die if we have to face him now,” Terezi says.

Kanaya looks down at Vriska, then across at Nepeta, before she turns back to Terezi. “Then we die,” she says.

Feferi follows Kanaya’s line of vision and sees Nepeta. “She’s not—” she says in horror.

“The culling squad came for us,” Terezi says.

“They questioned me about my chumproll,” Equius says stiffly. “I gave them Vriska and Terezi’s names.”

“They were only questioning you because I up and gave them your name,” Gamzee says.

“They only questioned anyone because the douchefin gave them TrolliianExiile,” Sollux says flatly.

“She’s dead?” Eridan is staring at Nepeta, his expression blank.

“You gave them TrolliianExiile?” you say, scrambling to your feet. “I defended you, you bulgechafing fuck.”

“They weren’t supposed to get the names!” he bursts out. “They weren’t supposed to get anythin’ from it! I thought it was fine since it didn’t save chat logs!”

“He just wanted to kill me, not everyone else,” Sollux says, his voice dripping with disdain. Eridan snarls at him.

“Quieter,” Terezi says sharply. Your voices have been echoing down the tunnel.

“Fuck,” Eridan groans. He grabs fistfuls of his own hair, bowing his head. “Oh god. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

He turns on his heel and disappears back around the bend in the tunnel. You and Sollux both start after him, and then Sollux just sighs and waves you forward.

“Go on. You probably won’t kill him,” he says.

You follow Eridan down the tunnel. The tunnels here are narrow alleys that skirt around the hivestems near the factories. Some of them are dug by hand where trolls have attempted to hook up their own tiny hives to the tunnel system. Eridan has stopped at the mouth of one, where the paving stones have come loose from sweeps of foot traffic. He is hunched, his shoulders already tight because he can hear you coming.

“Did you give them TrolliianExiile because of me?” you ask him as soon as you reach him.

His fists are clenched and he doesn’t turn to face you. “Not _just_ because of that,” he mutters.

You snarl and grab his shoulder, jerking him around to face you. “Dammit, Eridan, I told you not to do anything stupid!”

It’s a sign of his misery that he doesn’t even seem pissed off at your violation of his personal space. “Kar, you don’t know me if you think I can stop doin’ stupid things.”

It would be funny if it wasn’t so miserably true. You _should_ have known what he’d do. And to be honest, hadn’t you guessed? When he warned you not to talk treasonously on TrolliianExiile, hadn’t you immediately jumped to the conclusion that he was thinking about turning you all in? You should have actually done something about it then, instead of assuming that he wouldn’t be that stupid. Because this is Eridan, and you _do_ know him. He’s _always_ that stupid.

Fuck, you’re such a failure as a friend. How did you even think you could auspisticize between Eridan and Sollux if you could go ahead and let Eridan do something so monumentally disastrous?

You look away from Eridan as two redblooded trolls skulk past on their way to their hives. “Nepeta wouldn’t have even been in danger if we hadn’t had to set up this fucking network just to get me here,” you hiss once the trolls are out of earshot.

“Don’t start this shit, Kar. Everyone knew they were in danger by joinin’ the network, but it was me who turned ‘em in.” He hunches and you realize that you’re still gripping his shoulder. You let go convulsively. “I thought I was savin’ Fef by doin’ this, but I just fucked us all over,” he adds miserably. “Pinktext was right.”

This is only the second time you’ve met him in person, although your head is full of memories of him at six sweeps in another timeline, immature, self-absorbed, lonely and furious. He’s not the same troll that he was then; although in so many ways, he hasn’t changed at all. Without the merciless influence of the game to amplify the consequences of his actions, it took him an extra two sweeps to do something that resulted in the death of a friend, but it still happened.

You grip your own elbows, struck with a flush of self hatred. “I knew from the start that you were obsessed with the hemospectrum, and I was still stupid enough to show you my blood color. What sort of miserable excuse for a leader am I if I show you that and then let you run off?”

“What, you were gonna come yell at me in the palace?” Eridan scoffs. “If I’d wanted you to help me, I’d a let you talk me down. I knew you couldn’t stop me. I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want you ashen, and I didn’t want you pale. Stoppin’ me wasn’t your business.”

“I don’t care if we’re not quadranted,” you say. “It put everyone in danger. Nepeta’s dead, and Vriska is pretty close to following her. Maybe you didn’t pull the trigger this time, but you certainly set them up as targets, and I was the one who gave up on you.”

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s only cuz a you that I even think what I did was wrong. I didn’t do anything illegal. Hell, what I did wasn’t even morally wrong, from the point a view a the hemospectrum.” He opens his hands helplessly. “For what it’s worth—and I know it ain’t a lot—I’m really, really fuckin’ sorry.”

“Great. I’m so fucking proud of myself. You might have got us killed but at least I made sure you felt bad doing it.” You scowl at him. “I don’t know if you could ever earn back everyone’s trust. This isn’t exactly the first time you’ve done this sort of thing.”

“It’s the last,” he says earnestly. “I swear, Kar. Every fuckin’ decision I make, I’m gonna have it voted on by a committee first.”

You don’t know what to say to him. Nepeta is dead, and he is the reason why. She was sweet, and adorable, and funny, and brave, and she had feelings for you that you could never return. All you can picture now is Equius cradling her body as if there’s nothing left in the world.

You _know_ Eridan. You’ve been talking to him for sweeps in both universes. He’s arrogant and impulsive; he may be smart, but he has never been wise. Him being a fuckup is a universal constant. You weren’t lying when you told him a perigee ago that you would have been his moirail if you weren’t Gamzee’s. You want to fix his stupid problems, and not just for everyone else’s sake. You pity the fuck out of him.

He misinterprets your silence. “I mean, I’d understand if you don’t ever want to talk to me again,” he says, his eyes wide with unease. “I know we got some sort a end a the world shit coming at us now, and you need all the help you can get, but after this—if there _is_ an after—I can just fuck off. I could…”

You watch his expression as the full truth of his situation suddenly hits home. He won’t be going back to the palace. From the moment he left there with Feferi, Sollux and Kanaya, he lost everything he’d been striving for. He can’t return to his military academy. He won’t be in charge of any ships in the fleet. If Alternia has a future after Jack Noir is done with it, Eridan Ampora will not be a part of it.

“Grow up. You can’t fix your mistakes if you just run away,” you say roughly. “You’d think we’d all know that by now. That’s how we got into this mess with Jack Noir, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he says unsteadily.

There is a pause. You can hear the distant echoes of trolls in other tunnels. There is a steady drone of VA traffic coming from all around you, bypassing this little ventricle where you’re hiding out.

“Kar,” Eridan says into the silence. “I’ve been meaning to say, um. I mean, I know it’s not a good thing to keep these sorts a things secret for a long time—”

You take off your sunglasses, which cuts him off mid sentence. His eyes dart to yours immediately, like he can’t stop himself from looking. Like he’s checking to see if it’s still as bad as he remembers. You feel awkward and exposed, but you look back at him steadily. If you’re going to have this conversation, it can’t happen with any pretense. You don’t hide it from Tavros, Terezi or Gamzee, and if you expect Eridan to be your friend, you can’t hide it from him either.

His expression hovers between sick fascination and unease, but all he ends up saying is, “It’s not that bad a color on you.”

“Thanks,” you say flatly.

He drops his gaze for a second, fidgeting. “I was tryin’ to say that I’ve been flushed for you. Even though you’re. Um. I just mean that it didn’t really change my feelings at all, at least not once I got to thinkin’ about it. And I don’t expect anythin’ from you at all, but I just wanted to say it because. Because that’s why I don’t want you ash. If you became my auspistice it would just get all kinds a complicated.”

“I know,” you say. “I know. Shut up.”

“I know you’re flushed for Terezi,” he continues doggedly. “That’s okay. I don’t want to mess up your quadrants.”

You wince. “Terezi isn’t flushed for me,” you say reluctantly. It feels oddly final to say it out loud, even if it’s something you’ve known for some time now. “We’ve been living together for more than a perigee and…it’s just not going to happen. She’s my friend. That’s all.”

“Oh.” His expression is guarded, as if he’s not sure whether to take this as good news or not. “So. Uh.”

You glance down the tunnel toward where you left the others. You’re out of their sight and earshot, and for the moment there’s no one else around. Your digestive sac clenches in trepidation. You like to think you’re pretty good at dealing with everyone else’s romantic problems, but you suck abysmally at managing your own.

Taking a deep breath, you step in close, closing your hands over the black lapels of his uniform. He inhales in surprise and then you press your mouth against his.

You see the purple blur of his eyes before they sink shut and and his hands come up to cup the back of your head, tugging you in a little closer. His mouth is sea dweller cool under yours, and he tastes overwhelmingly of salt. You can feel the slow, steady thrum of his pulse, slower even than Gamzee’s.

After a moment, you break apart. He opens his eyes again, swaying forward slightly as if he wants to follow your mouth with his.

“What the fuck was that?” he says breathlessly, shifting back again.

“I was just testing something,” you say. You’re surprised to hear something shaky in your voice.

“Yeah?” He gives a huff of a laugh. “How did it turn out?”

You lean in and kiss him again, and this time he’s far less hesitant. When you part this time, he’s trying really hard not to grin. You like his smile. You have enough memories from the other universe to know that he doesn’t do it very often.

“Don’t die tomorrow,” you say.

“I promise,” he says. He pulls you in for the kiss this time. You can feel heat low in your stomach where your body is starting to forget that you’re in a miserable fucking situation on the last night of your short life, and this is a really inappropriate time for happiness. You silently tell that part of yourself to fuck off.

Finally you put your hand on his chest and push away, stepping back. “This is just—” you start, and your voice is a little hoarse so you start again. “This is just a test, okay? Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Sure, yeah,” says Eridan, who would probably agree to anything at this point.

“If we don’t die tomorrow, we’ll, uh, revisit it,” you say.

“Okay,” he says.

“So don’t die,” you remind him.

“I already said I wouldn’t.”

You peel your fingers off his uniform and carefully straighten his lapels. “We should get back to everyone else.”

His expression sinks a little, but then he takes a breath and straightens his shoulders. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s go back.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Pesterlog excerpt**

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering arsenicCatnip [AC] \--

GG: *the friendly puppy sniffs the air and wonders why she cant smell you around anywhere!*  
GG: hiii  
GG: i guess ill be meeting you soon  
GG: maybe  
GG: hopefully???  
GG: if everything goes right, anyway  
GG: i dont want to mess this up  
GG: i know youre all probably busy on your end  
GG: getting ready to fight bec noir  
GG: ...  
GG: D:  
GG: oh god this is so terrifying  
GG: i wish i could get an update from someone on your end but no one is online  
GG: i hope things are going well over there  
GG: and i really  
GG: reeeeeaaaally  
GG: hope this doesnt end horribly

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering arsenicCatnip [AC] \--  


* * *

  
**Jade**

You have never been so nervous in your life.

It’s the early morning hours of June 12. None of you were able to sleep through the night. You’re all at Rose’s house, sitting in her living room in a thin, brittle silence. Rose has been idly braiding and unbraiding your hair. Dave is sprawled on the couch with his laptop on his lap, but you’re pretty sure he’s done nothing but periodically refresh his email all night. The television is playing Men In Black on mute, and John is staring at it blankly.

Everyone is relying on you and Kanaya to do this thing, but you’re not even sure if you can do it. What if all your theorizing is wrong? This entire plan is based on a particularly massive leap of faith, and if it turns out you miscalculated, you’re all in trouble.

Oh, that sounds so tame. “In trouble.” If this goes wrong, you’re all _dead._

It’s not like anyone has a choice in trusting you with this, though. As the Heroes of Space, you and Kanaya are the only ones who can even sense what’s happening here. You can feel it in your teeth and deep inside your ears, like a change in pressure. Realities are shifting against each other, jostling for space. Formerly uncreated universes are being un-uncreated as Jack Noir struggles to break through into this new one. You’ve been feeling it for some time, getting flashes of memories from an un-lived life.

Back before the Scratch, you were supposed to figure out a way to take the old universe with you. But you had been so involved in finishing your frog breeding duties before John finished scratching the Beat Mesa that you hadn’t even begun to figure out a way to do that too. The last clear thing you remember is an explosion. Everything after that is just a jumble.

How can you possibly think that you’ll be able to save the universe this time, when you failed so badly at it last time? You don’t even have your Witch of Space powers anymore, except this vague echo that is letting you sense the other universe.

That, by the way, is the leap of faith you and Kanaya are taking. You are pretty certain—well, relatively sure—well, you _really really hope_ that when Jack Noir breaks through from the other universe, the last of the game elements will come into place. Specifically, your in-game powers. As soon as Jack makes it through, you and Kanaya will have the ability to open up a gateway between the two universes, so that depending on where Jack shows up, you can all join together to fight him.

In theory.

You bury your face in your hands, tugging your hair out of Rose’s fingers. “Uuuugh,” you say into your palms, breaking the silence.

“Same,” says Dave.

Rose slides off the couch to sit on the floor next to you. “You’re going to be fine,” she says, putting her arm around your shoulders and giving you a quick hug. Rose is not a demonstrative person, so this much physical contact means that she’s probably just as uneasy as you are.

“What if I’m not?” you say.

“We will make do.”

You hug her back, because you don’t know what else to do. You want to say “How?” but you’re afraid that she won’t have an answer and right now you’d like to maintain the fiction that Rose really does know what she’s talking about.

“Thanks,” you mumble instead.

“Group hug,” says John, climbing off the armchair where he’s been sitting for the past few hours. He flings his arms around you both. “Come on, Dave.”

Dave gives you all an unreadable look from behind his shades, not moving from the couch. “I’m good,” he says.

“You can’t say no to the group hug,” John warns. “There are consequences.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Dave says.

John gives you and Rose an arch look. Rose raises her eyebrows back at him. Then the three of you scramble onto the couch, piling on Dave. He flails around at first while Rose snuggles up against his left side and you get your arms around his chest. John can wrap his arms around all three of you at once, and he squeezes hard enough to leave you all breathless.

“Egbert, I can’t breathe,” Dave says.

“Shh,” says John. “No talking allowed.”

Dave puts up a show of grumbling but he hugs you all tightly. You rest your head against John’s shoulder and hold them all and think, _please let this work out._  


* * *

  
Dave brought his swords from home. He’s been practicing strifing every day. He has no strifing partner, since you all have such wildly different kind abstrata, but he can go through the steps on his own. As the sun rises, he stands out on Rose’s lawn and goes through the moves with his sword, moving almost too fast to see.

John is not very skilled with his hammerkind abstratus. He only allocated it last month, when you got your memories back for good. Without the Game, he had never had a reason for a strife specibus. Even with his memories, he really only fought with hammerkind for one day. He’s been practicing as well, but there’s not much he can do. There are no imps here to fight for experience, and although he has far more upper body strength than he did when he was thirteen, he doesn’t have the Game-given power behind his swings.

Rose has her knitting needles, but without an alchemiter, that’s all they are. She doesn’t bother practicing. Instead she just reads her dark texts in preparation.

You have your rifle, of course. You wouldn’t leave home without it. You are an excellent markswoman.

It has been four days since you arrived here at Rose’s. It was awesome to see everyone again, of course. You’d missed them. And Rose’s house was beautiful, and the little town nearby was fun to explore, and you’d all just had a really great first day or two, staying up late and then sleeping in until noon, having lazy breakfasts and walks out through the fields. You’d shown everyone edible plants. You and Rose had teased Dave and John about being city boys.

But the entire time, Bec Noir had been at the back of your mind, and you know everyone else was thinking about it as well. Whichever way you looked at it, your lives were going to change drastically.

Up until you got your memories back, you were a bunch of kids with normal concerns, and while you were all going through some life-changing developments as you became adults and started to plan your futures, it was still the normal sort of milestone that everyone goes through at some point. Sure, you had had dreams of your past life, but for many years you had thought they were figments of your imagination, and even when you began to realize they were something more, they couldn’t compete with the vivid immediacy of your current life.

Now, though, you know the truth. You remember the day when the world ended and everyone died. That’s the world that seems real now, and your silly concerns about growing up seem so trivial. If you don’t figure out a way to save the day, the world is going to end again, and this time you don’t have any extra lives or save points to fall back on.  


* * *

  
At six a.m., Rose makes coffee. You all stand in the kitchen, barefoot and sleepy, drinking it.

“I think we should head over soon,” you say, holding the hot mug in both your hands. “I don’t know when he’s going to come through exactly but we should be ready.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Dave says. “I have to beat John at Mario Kart later.”

“Oh man, it’s _on_ ,” John replies.

There’s a noise in the doorway and then Mrs. Lalonde shuffles in, looking bleary-eyed, although her hair is perfectly coiffed. “You kids are up early,” she says, heading straight for the coffee pot.

“So are you,” Rose says.

Mrs. Lalonde pours herself a coffee. “Couldn’t sleep,” she says. “Odd dreams.”

While Mrs. Lalonde searches the fridge for half and half, Rose looks uncertain. You mime giving someone a hug. Rose rolls her eyes at you, but when Mrs. Lalonde closes the fridge again, Rose steps forward.

“Mother, um,” she starts, and then she just throws her arms around Mrs. Lalonde. Her mother looks startled, and then pleased. She hugs Rose back.

“What brought this on, Rosie?” she says.

“I love you,” Rose says, her face buried in her mother’s shoulder. You can see Mrs. Lalonde’s eyes widen and you politely avert your gaze.

“I love you too, darling,” Mrs. Lalonde says quietly. She squeezes Rose. Rose lets her go.

“We’re going to spend some time down at the lab today,” Rose says. “If something happens… Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.”

“What’s going to happen?” Mrs. Lalonde asks.

Rose just shakes her head. “I don’t know. Just… be careful.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Lalonde frowns at her, then shrugs. “You all look tired. Maybe you should go back to bed.”

“In a little while,” Rose says.

Mrs. Lalonde hesitates, then gives you all a wave. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” she says, and disappears out the door again.

There is a silence after she leaves. After a moment, John says, “I sent my dad an email this morning, explaining everything. Just in case.”

“I didn’t tell my bro,” Dave says. “He can take care of himself.”

You say nothing because you don’t have a grandfather anymore. In this universe, he lasted a few more years than he had in the other one, but he still ended up passing away. In a way, it’s almost a relief that you don’t have to worry about him.

“Okay,” Rose says. “Let’s get ready.”  


* * *

  
In half an hour, you’re heading over to the lab next to Rose’s house. It’s far enough away from the house and the neighbors that if something happens, you should have room to fight. If you’d had more time to plan, you would have had this fight back on your own island, thousands of miles from the nearest innocent bystander, but you’d only found out Jack’s date of arrival two days ago. That hadn’t been nearly enough time to make changes.

Anyway, Jack could teleport. There was probably no place in this world that was safe from him, once he arrived.

You feel more confident now that you have your rifle on your back. Admittedly, it might not be much use against a teleporting harlequin dog demon with the power to destroy entire planets on a whim, but you have always felt better when armed.

The grass is wet with dew, and the early morning air is a bit chilly. It’s still early June in New York, so it’s not nearly as warm and tropical as your island would be. When you reach the door to the lab, you stop and Rose unlocks it.

“I just need a doorway, I think,” you say uncertainly. “I mean, if Kanaya and I are right about what’s going to happen, once I get my powers back I can turn the doorway into a gate to the other universe.”

“Will any door do?” Rose asks.

“I think so?” You shrug. “I have a feeling Jack is going to find us wherever we go, so we’d better pick a place that gives us an advantage.”

“It’ll be easier to fight if I have room to swing a sword,” Dave says.

“Same with the hammer,” John agrees.

“We can just use this door, then,” Rose says. “We won’t even go inside.”

You sit down on the ground and pull out your laptop. “Let me just talk to Kanaya.”

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA] \--

GG: kanaya are you there???  
GG: were all set up here  
GG: i think weve found a good doorway to use as a gate  
GG: have you?  
GG: hello?  
GG: are you there?  
GA: Hello  
GA: We Are Having Some Difficulty  
GG: oh phew i was afraid youd all disappeared  
GG: whats happening?  
GA: We Are In The Tunnels Under The City But I Am Beginning To Think That It Would Be Wise To Fight Jack Here  
GA: I Am Trying To Find A More Appropriate Gateway  
GA: Perhaps One That Leads To The Surface  
GG: hurry up!  
GG: we dont have much time!  
GA: I Am Aware  
GA: However There Are Also Subjugglators Searching For Us  
GA: And Several Of Us Are Injured  
GA: I Myself Died Yesterday  
GG: um  
GG: you what?  
GA: Its A Complicated Story  
GA: For Now I Am Too Busy To Tell It  
GA: I Will Message You When I Find A Location To Use

\-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] \--

“They’re getting ready,” you say out loud.

“I can’t believe we’re going to see them,” says John. “For real this time. I don’t even know what they look like! What if they’re terrifying monsters?”

“I hope they are,” you say. “We need twelve terrifying monsters on our side.”

“They’re humanoid, I believe,” Rose says. “At least, Kanaya sent me some sketches of the dresses she’s designed, and they’d have to be pretty similar to humans to wear them.”

“Oh man,” John says suddenly. He’s been pacing in the grass, but he stops. “I just thought of something.”

“Yeah, I asked about that,” Dave says. “It turns out the girls have dicks _too_.”

“No, I was going to— wait, what?” John stares at Dave.

“John, please continue,” Rose says, rolling her eyes.

“What I was going to say was, what if we don’t speak the same language?”

“We didn’t have a problem on Pesterchum,” you say.

John turns to you. “Yeah, but it wasn’t the same language. Karkat and I took screenshots. It was being translated somehow. What if we get there and we can’t even talk to them? There won’t be anything translating for us then.”

Rose frowns. “What would have been translating our messages?” she asks. “Pesterchum couldn’t possibly have that function built in. It must have been whatever force was letting us speak to them across universes in the first place.”

“The Game,” you say.

“Once Jack breaks through for good, if the Game mechanics reassert themselves as we hope they will, maybe the language barrier won’t be a problem,” Rose says. “It might keep translating for us.”

“Like some sort of badly dubbed Kung Fu movie,” Dave says. “Their lips won’t be moving with their words.”

“If they have lips,” John muses.

“Don’t say that. Terezi promised me interspecies makeouts,” Dave says.

There is a faint ringing in your ears. You rub at them. Pressure begins to build behind the bridge of your nose.

“Guys?” you say uneasily. “I think it’s—”

The sky cracks for the final time.

Green lightning arches out of the crack, spreading across the dawn sky like reaching fingers. You can taste it, like carbonation crackling on the roof of your mouth. The hairs on your arms stand up and gooseflesh runs down your legs.

The buildup of tension that you had been feeling over the past few months abruptly releases, like a branch suddenly breaking after bending for so long. The feeling of universes grinding uncomfortably against each other is gone. In its place is the knowledge that you are the Witch of Space.

The world is still the same around you. You’re still on the grass outside of the lab, with the sun just cresting the horizon. But every fiber of your being is charged with this arcane gnosis, a fundamental understanding of how the universe works. You know how to open this gateway between the worlds with more certainty than you’ve ever known anything else.

Wind whips around you. John has a look of exhilaration on his face. “Yes,” he says fervently, eyes shining.

Dave has his hands out, his fingers spread, as if he’s sensing something you can’t. His eyes are unfocused. As you watch, he makes some sort of movement—or not exactly, but that’s the best word you can use to describe it—and there are two of him for a second before he moves again and he’s alone.

“Where’s Jack?” he asks.

Rose is staring at the sky. “Read your phone,” she says.

Dave’s phone chimes four times in quick succession. Even as he takes it out, Rose has turned away from all of you and is sprinting across the grass.

“Shit,” Dave says. He drops the phone and sprints after her.

John snatches up the phone and glances at it, then tosses it to you. It only takes a second to read what it says.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

TT: Dave, something’s going on.  
TT: Fuck  
TT: get out now run  
TT: he knows wher

“He’s going for our families,” John says desperately. “Jade, take me home.”

Lightning fills the sky. A forked green snake flashes in the air right at Rose’s house. You can see Rose just reaching the door. Dave is already there.

“I can’t,” you say. “I have to let the trolls through. We can’t fight him alone.”

“But my dad!”

“As soon as I let them through,” you say helplessly, although you know that if Jack did go for John’s dad, it’s already too late to help.

You close your eyes and focus on the doorway of the lab. Somewhere in the other universe, Kanaya will be doing the same thing. You can feel the troll universe out there, even though it existed billions and billions of years before your solar system was even a spark in a dust cloud. Time means nothing. If it existed, you can feel it.

And you can feel Kanaya stretching out to you as well. It’s as if you are both standing on boats in the ocean and reaching out to each other while the waves and wind try to keep you apart. She keeps bobbing out of reach.

Distantly you can hear John shouting, and another crack of thunder. You ignore it.

Your metaphorical hand grabs Kanaya’s, bridging the gap between the two universes. You immediately anchor that bridge to the door of the lab, grafting the two universes together at this one point. On the other side, Kanaya does the same.

You open your eyes. In front of you, where the door to the lab had been, you can see an opening into a dark tunnel. Framed in the doorway is a young woman in a green dress, with skin the color of mother of pearl, and with two slender orange horns rising from a bed of dark hair.

“Jade!” John screams. You turn and Jack is _right in front of you_ , his wings spread, his hackles raised. His snout wrinkles in a snarl. He lunges and you recoil, but he wasn’t lunging at you. Instead, he bursts through the gate, flaring with green electricity.

There is a wind whipping around you, and the sky has darkened nearly to black. Pink lightning sizzles like an afterimage. Rose is next to you, her skin painted charcoal. She swarms through the gate on tentacles of darkness. John is right behind her.

Dave goes next, his face grim. You don’t want to ask what he found in Rose’s house. When he’s through the gate, you step in as well.

You emerge into noise, heat, and dust. There is chaos around you, and too-bright sunlight streams down a ramp leading up. Someone says something in a language you don’t understand. There is a flicker like a tuning radio, and then your brain supplies the translation as if you’d spoken Alternian your whole life.

“—fucking _roof_ is caving in—”

“We can’t go up there!”

“We have to.”

A chunk of ceiling crashes down, bringing in more sunlight that hurts your eyes and makes everyone scatter. There are trolls around you. Humanoid, like Rose had said, but still distinctly alien. The one in the green dress—Kanaya?—grabs your arm.

“He went onto the surface,” she says. “Come on.”

She pulls you and you run.


	28. Chapter 28

**Karkat**

Everything is happening too fast for you to keep up. One moment, Kanaya is standing in front of a bricked-up archway near the group. In the next, green lightning claws its way through a howling portal, and Bec Noir comes arrowing into the tunnel, his wings flattened against his sides.

The tunnel fills with a hair-raising hum of electricity. You can feel the last of the game mechanics slotting into place. You’re a Knight of Blood now, even if that doesn’t mean much. Jack turns black eyes on you all, his lip raising in a snarl, and then the dog-god phases out of sight with a snap of recoiling air so strong that it rips tiles from the walls.

Darkness boils out of the portal and someone else spills through. You recognize Rose from your distant memories, although her skin has gone as gray as yours and she’s accompanied by crackling darkness. She says something, but for the moment you don’t understand the words she’s using.

Something explodes nearby, so loud that it makes your bloodpusher lurch. You flinch belatedly, covering your head as a piece of shrapnel pings against the wall beside you. The tunnel floods with sunlight and dust as part of the ceiling collapses. When you look again, John is already in the tunnel, and Dave is just stepping through.

“Aradia?” Equius says, his voice verging on panic. Blue blood drips down from a cut over one eye, where he must have caught some shrapnel. He struggles to his feet, still holding Nepeta. The source of the explosion is unclear, but there is a pile of twisted metal on the floor that might have been Aradia once.

“We have to get out of here,” you say, backing away as another piece of ceiling falls and the last human comes through the portal. “The fucking roof is caving in.”

“We can’t go up there!” Eridan says, squinting into the sunlight and shielding his eyes with one hand.

“We have to,” you say. “That’s where Jack is.”

Terezi’s back is covered in gray dust from the falling ceiling, but she has managed to shield Vriska from the worst of it. Feferi kneels beside them, touching her hands lightly to Vriska’s chest. Feferi isn’t god tier, but she is the Witch of Life again, and her healing powers are strong.

The tunnel shakes again, this time from something happened outside. More rubble rains down from the ceiling. Rose rises straight up through the hole in the ceiling, buoyed by her returned god tier powers. Dave darts after her. Gamzee equips his clubs and strides down the tunnel to the ramp leading to the surface without looking back. That’s enough for you. You run after him.

Going out into the sunlight again is immediately painful. Your skin is raw, still not recovered from last night’s trip through the streets, and the sunglasses that you’ve been wearing do very little to cut the glare. The ramp leads up to a sun-baked street near the waterfront, a good half mile from the palace. The heat is heavy on your shoulders and the air is almost too thick to breathe. It hurts your lungs to take a full breath. You reach the top of the ramp and dart for the nearest shadow, shading your eyes. As soon as you get into the shade of the nearest building, you look around, squinting against the glare.

And the sky

is _full_

of ships.

There are an even dozen hanging over the city, sleek black and glaring red, their engines thrumming heavily. You can see the Battleship Condescension, with her gleaming trident prow. You’ve never _seen_ a ship that big. You’ve never seen a ship at _all_ —it’s still a sweep before the first ships are supposed to take the fresh crop of mature trolls out into their compulsory service.

One of them is at the shipyards now. You can’t see it well, just its glossy hulk over the rooftops near the docks. It must be letting off troops. From what the others have told you about what happened at the palace, you think Her Imperious Condescension is intending to deal with her Heiress problem once and for all.

Whatever thoughts you had of stopping Jack are brought up short. Not only do you have to stop an insanely powerful psychopath prototyped with a First fucking Guardian, but you have to do it while dodging Imperial soldiers?

“It paints a pretty motherfucking picture, doesn’t it?” Gamzee says, loping into the shadows. “How they all just hang in the air like that, like gravity ain’t even a motherfucking thing.”

“How many subjugglators do you think are in those ships?” you say grimly. Gamzee just shrugs, his eyes dark. His shirt is already soaked with sweat, and his makeup is starting to melt, streaking down his neck. You reach up and wipe away a trickle before it can reach the collar of his shirt. He smiles at you lazily and flicks at your hair where it’s sticking to your forehead.

Kanaya and Jade come up the ramp next to you. It’s been two sweeps and a different universe since you saw Jade. She’s taller and has prominent fat deposits on her pectorals, even though from what you remember of humans, females of the species couldn’t possibly have used them as extra calorie storage for perigee-long hunting trips like female trolls.

“Where did Jack go?” Kanaya asks you. She’s standing in the sunlight and is almost too bright to look at. Her skin drinks in the light. Jade moves into the shadows with you. She has a rifle strapped to her back.

“I don’t see the world ending anywhere nearby so I have no fucking clue,” you say.

“Karkat?” Jade says. It’s not how you say your name, but you recognize it anyway.

“Yeah,” you say. “Hi Jade.”

She grins at you. “Can I hug you?”

“Uh—” you start, and then she throws her arms around you.

“Hi!”

The pitch of the engine hum overhead changes and one of the battleships sinks out of the sky. It touches down in the water, sending a sheet of sea water up in every direction, and then slowly opens its doors. Black uniformed trolls start pouring out into the ocean in orderly ranks. A second ship starts to lower itself down.

“Whoa,” says John, touching down lightly on the ground next to you all. “It’s bright out here. No wonder you guys are nocturnal.”

“It isn’t fair, all of you flying everywhere,” Jade says. “I never got to reach god tier.”

Their banter is trying very hard to be light, but it sounds strained to you. Jade lets go of you barely in time for John to fling his arms around you as well. He radiates heat.

“Nice to finally meet you,” he says, his voice muffled against your hair.

“Are all humans obsessed with violating personal space?” you snarl. He laughs and squeezes you tightly before letting go.

Tavros comes up the ramp, and then Feferi. Vriska limps up after her. The wound in her chest has healed over into shiny cerulean scar tissue. She looks like some barkbeast’s chew toy but her expression is set in stubborn determination.

Dave drops down to the ground, expressionless in a way that immediately makes you want to punch him in the face. “I don’t know where Rose—” he starts to say.

Lightning cracks across the sky like shattering glass. You all look up, and there’s Jack, wings buffeting the air. He’s just a tiny shape, far above you.

Another shape streaks toward him on a cloud of darkness. Rose. Dave curses and shoots up into the air again, with John close behind.

You shade your eyes and watch them. The sky is so bright that your eyes are watering, and when you look away, spots dance across your vision. They’re going to get themselves killed. There’s no way they can get Jack, not just the three of them, not even if they’re god tier. The fact that they're fighting him means that their deaths are going to be heroic, and that means Jack doesn’t have to keep beating them down. They'll just be dead. It’s stupid to split the party in a fight like this. The knowledge of your inevitable failure is almost like a physical weight, getting heavier and heavier on your shoulders. Jack’s going to pick them off easily and then come down here to get the rest of you one at a time. You’re all going to die screaming and the world is going to follow right after, and—

“What’s going on?” Jade asks, sounding unsettled. “What are you doing?”

Mother of _fuck_ , the subjugglators whammied you without you even realizing it. You’re on your knees, burdened by the weight of your own despair. The heat of the asphalt is cooking your flesh. When you raise your head, you can see a VA just turning the corner down the street. Nearly all of you are sagging to the ground in soul-crushing despondency, except Gamzee, who steps off the curb into the sunlight; Feferi, who is supporting Vriska; and Jade, who is looking at you all quizzically.

It’s a struggle to draw in a full breath, but you manage. “Gamzee, they have laser rifles.”

He doesn’t even look back at you. “Seems to me it’s time these motherfuckers learned their place,” he says, spinning his club in his hand. The weight of his chucklevoodoos descends and even Feferi hunches her shoulders for a moment before Gamzee gets far enough away.

“They’re not the only ones with laser rifles,” Eridan says, cresting the ramp. He has Ahab’s Crosshairs bare in his hands.

“I thought you’d be surrendering to Jack Noir by now,” Sollux snarls at him, coming up after him.

“Oh, did you manage to peel yourself up off the floor already? You were doin’ a fuckin’ fantastic impression of a rug down there.”

The two of them glare at each other in a way that is decidedly pitch. Feferi equips her trident. “Enough,” she says. “Eridan, you and I and Gamzee are going to buy everyone some time. Everyone else: we can’t fight Jack while he’s up there. Figure out a way to get him down.”

Before she even finishes her sentence, there is a flash of green light and then Jack’s Green Miles begin to sweep outward, snaking across the sky like spreading wildfire. A whip of fire lashes the hivestem you’re sheltering against, which bursts into flame. Another bolt of green punches through two hivestems across the street, and when it rips out the side, furniture and screaming trolls rain down onto the street below.

You all scatter. You sprint for the overhang of the warehouse on the edge of the water. Tavros is running too, and when you reach him you grab his hand and pull him along faster. Electricity sizzles overhead and you both duck, but when you look up, you can see red and blue psionics catch a heavy chunk of hivestem façade before it can crush you. Sollux heaves the debris out of the way.

A powerful gust of wind howls down the street. It flattens the flames of the burning hivestem, extinguishing them. Smoke billows out of the building. John is in the air, already focusing on the next building. The sky is darkening with all the smoke, or maybe that’s Rose, who is dodging the Green Miles.

You recognize the sound of a laser pistol being discharged. You pray that it's Ahab’s Crosshairs. You can’t see them anymore, not with all the smoke and rubble in the way. You reach the shadows of the warehouse. The smell of salt is sharp in your nose, and thirty feet away, the pavement ends in a sharp drop to the ocean. Wooden piles chalked with wingbeast guano stand sentinel here, waiting for the dim season to come again and boat traffic to return.

Tavros glances over his shoulder as soon as you get in the shadows. “Do you think they’re, okay?” he asks.

“Gamzee can hold his own,” you say. _Against one or two_ , your brain adds. _Not an army_.

The reality of this entire situation suddenly hits you with terrible force. Maybe it had seemed reasonable last night to think that you might get out of this whole thing alive. At some point you had actually thought you could fight Jack and save the world. But fight him with what? Your flimsy sickles? He’s a god, and you can’t even fly. There are subjugglators after you, and a whole army of Imperial soldiers, and you’re just barely eight sweeps old.

You can’t even blame this realization on chucklevoodoos because the subjugglators aren’t near you right now. Tavros seems unaffected, in any case. He’s watching Sollux and Jade dodge into the shadows of another building nearby.

“I think I might have an idea?" Tavros says cautiously. "About how to get Jack down.”

“I’m all ears,” you start to say, and then there is a burst of gunfire. The concrete blocks over your head blister and burst under the heat of a laser blast. You and Tavros both drop to the ground.

Six soldiers in full light season armor have come around the corner down the street. They’re covered from head to toe in white fabric. Their tinted goggles give them a faceless, bug-eyed appearance. Two of them have their guns drawn. The rest are spreading out to take positions on the waterfront. You scramble for the door of the warehouse, but it’s locked.

There’s another series of shots, this time coming from Jade and Sollux’s direction. They have taken shelter in a doorway and Jade is squeezing off clean shots from her rifle. A wall of psionic energy sweeps out at the soldiers, knocking two of them into the water. An eye-blast incinerates a third where he stands.

It gives you and Tavros enough time to move around the side of the warehouse. You both hunch down next to a stack of wooden pallets.

There is more gunfire and then a short, clipped-off shriek that does not sound anything like a troll soldier. The two of you exchange wide-eyed looks and then you peer around the edge of the warehouse.

Jade has been hit. She’s hunched over, clutching her shoulder. Shockingly red blood is dripping between her fingers. Her own rifle is on the ground at her feet where she dropped it. Sollux sends out another blast of psionic energy, smashing one soldier into the next and sending them both to plow into the front of a building.

“Karkat, look,” Tavros says urgently, pulling on your arm. “Look at Jack.”

Jack has folded his wings to his sides and is plummeting down to the docks toward Jade. He stops a hundred feet over your heads and sweeps one hand out. A VA down the street is impaled by a sudden lightning bolt. Another group of soldiers further down the waterfront is immolated where they stand, along with the hivestem next to them.

Jack reaches his hand out again, toward another hivestem, and then freezes in midair. Even his wings stop their steady rhythm, and for a second he drops before he abruptly starts flapping them again, making a clumsy recovery.

“What is he even doing?” you mutter, and then you glance at Tavros. He is squinting up at Jack with an expression of deep concentration. “Wait. You’re doing that?”

“He’s half dog,” he says tightly. “It’s—difficult, but if I can—”

An engine winds up somewhere nearby. One of the aircraft bobbing on the water swivels its turrets toward Jack. The turrets strafe the air around Jack, tearing through one of his wings. Jack fights free of Tavros’s control and drops straight down. He hits the water with a tremendous splash.

“Is he…dead?” you ask cautiously.

The underside of the aircraft in the water flares with a growing green light. It takes you a minute to realize what’s going on. Then the green bubble of pure energy breaches the surface of the water, swallowing the entire aircraft. Arcs of electricity leap from the bubble to any other nearby target: the second aircraft; an approaching VA; the warehouse you’re sheltering against.

“Fuck,” you breathe. You both struggle out from behind the wooden pallets and fling yourselves away from the warehouse, into the sunlight.  


* * *

  
**Feferi**

You pull your trident free of a troll soldier’s corpse and try to hide how your hands are shaking. The tines of the trident are coated in blue. When you shake the trident, blood hits the sun-scorched pavement and sizzles.

“That was fuckin’ amazing,” Eridan says, lowering his rifle. “I didn’t even see him there.”

Bringing a trident to a laser rifle fight is not the best idea, but this particular soldier had come upon the three of you suddenly, and you had been the quickest to react. Killing a troll is not much different from killing a lusus, and you have a lot of experience with that sort of thing. You and Eridan spent many sweeps in your youth dedicated to the pastime. Gl'bgolyb had to eat, after all. But at the same time, it’s disconcerting to know that your victim was a wiggler once, and probably has a few quadrants filled.

The corpses of a few more soldiers lie in the street in front of you, scorched by Ahab’s Crosshairs. Your strategy so far has been for Gamzee to flatten everyone to the ground with his chucklevoodoos, then have Eridan get them while they're down. You know they’re just soldiers following orders, and you do feel guilty. But they’ll kill all of you if they get the chance, and you can’t let them stop any of your friends before you can stop Jack. You can heal the wounded with your Witch of Life powers, but you can’t raise the dead.

“There’s another VA on the way,” Gamzee says, looking down the street. He rests his bloody club on his shoulder.

“They’ll all start heading this way once they know we’re here,” you say.

Gunfire erupts in the direction of the waterfront. You all exchange a glance, then start toward it, moving single file through the shadows. Gamzee has long strides that you can barely keep up with.

hellomydaughterhello

joyreliefdelight

You have gotten so used to the hungry, lonely presence of Gl'bgolyb in your head that the sudden change in her mood is a shock. You slow, letting Gamzee get ahead of you. Why is Gl'bgolyb talking to you now? You’re nowhere near here.

hellohellomydaughter

missedyoumissedyou

somanysweeps

Oh.

Oh no.

“What’s wrong?” Eridan asks you uneasily. Gamzee glances back at you both, but doesn’t stop.

You grab his arm. “Go with Gamzee. Help the others. I have to go.” You shove him after Gamzee and then break into a sprint.

You pass Gamzee and burst out into the sunlight. In barely a minute, you reach the edge of the water, and you execute a clean dive off the dock, breaking the surface with a neat splash. The water here is fouled a bit with motor oil, but you don’t slow down.

mydaughteritsbeensolong

youarehereatlast

You swim as fast as you can. You can swim very fast, although the dress you’re wearing was not meant for speed. You rip at the skirts with your claws and fight free of them, then slice through the water with powerful kicks of your legs.

It takes you five minutes to reach the outermost of Gl'bgolyb's tentacles, and another ten before you can feel her unfathomable bulk nearby. During the entire trip, you listen to Gl'bgolyb's effusive delight. In your entire life, she has never spoken to anyone but you. She has never been able. Not even Eridan was capable of hearing her psychic conversation. For the longest time, you wished there were other trolls who could talk with her and keep her company, so the burden didn’t have to be entirely on you.

But not _her_. Any troll but her.

Is this jealousy?

daughterhello

bothmydaughters

hello

You sink through the water, feeling a tentacle bump your shoulder and then disappear. The pressure bearing down on you is strong. It is so dark down here, but there, to your right, you can see a lace of phosphorescence drifting in the water. You draw closer to it, then freeze. A pair of tyrian eyes stares back at you.

“Hello, my Heiress,” says the Condesce.  


* * *

  
**Dave**

It is _ridiculously bright_ here in troll land. You’d known there would be differences here, but one of the things you hadn’t really considered was that the sun itself might be bigger and brighter and hotter, so that even your sunglasses don’t do much against it.

Rose, at least, is a pretty little thunderstorm, complete with her own lightning, and as long as you stay within her shade, you’re safe enough from the flaming ball of death in the sky, although not safe from anything else.

“Rose!” John shouts, his voice nearly carried away by the wind and the noise of the Green Miles. “We need a plan! You’re the Seer of making awesome plans and telling us all what to do, so do something!”

“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh,” Rose says. “Wgah'nagl fhtagn.”

“Good start, but I can’t understand you!” John replies.

Jack is destroying those weird troll apartment buildings. Everything looks organic here, as if the buildings were made by paper wasps or something. Rose darts forward again and you and John both move in front of her.

“We’re going to do this together,” you say to her. “We can’t just line up to take him on one at a time. Haven’t you seen every kung fu movie ever?”

She presses her lips together and glares at the two of you. You don’t like that chalky gray cast to her skin, or the way the air writhes around her like snakes. But you can’t blame her. If you’d seen your Bro’s body on the floor like that, and if you had some unholy accord with the eldritch abominations of the Furthest Ring, you might be floating around in your own little cloud of horror right now too.

That said, you’re not going to let Rose fly at him looking for revenge and get herself killed. This wouldn’t be the first time she’s attempted a suicide mission. Maybe you will all die here today, but you’re not going to let Rose do it alone.

“Rose, last time this happened, Jack killed you,” John says. “He killed us both. Remember? If you attack him now, it’ll be heroic.”

“Gorthytch svulk borbly’ahth,” Rose says.

“I’m sure that was a valid point, but if you’re going to sacrifice yourself, you have to make it worth something! What will that even accomplish?”

Machinery whines and then suddenly a gun turret is strafing the air with bolts of energy. Jack seems to be the target but the trolls in the aircraft aren’t making any effort to avoid the rest of you. John hits you all with a burst of wind, scattering you backwards, but it’s not far enough. A bolt of light punches through his chest, killing him instantly. Another one rips into your leg, cracking the bone. You double over in mid-air and then lose control of your equilibrium, tumbling end over end toward the cement below.

Rose catches you before you fall fifty yards. She hauls you up into her arms and the two of you spin more gently down to the ground. Your leg is screaming with pain, and you’re swearing continuously, fighting not to retch. When you touch the ground, you do retch. Rose lets you down carefully to the ground.

You’re only a few feet from John’s body. Looking at it only makes your stomach heave again, even though you know it’s not permanent. Rose grips your shoulder firmly.

“If you get yourself killed, Rose, I swear I’m gonna tell everyone about your wizard slash,” you say between gasps. “I’ll publish it online under your real name.”

“Haughauuhthr’l,” she says.

You close your eyes, panting. She strokes your hair. You’re sweating, and it seems to be getting hotter and hotter around you. When you open your eyes again, you realize that the black cloud of horror is dissipating from around you.

“I could kill you,” Rose says.

“Wha?” you manage.

“To fix your leg. You’ll heal when you resurrect.”

You risk a glance at your leg, then wish you hadn’t. It looks even worse than it feels.

“You couldn’t,” you say through your teeth.

“I can if I know the consequences of not doing it,” Rose says. “You can’t be a Knight with that injury.”

“Stay with me.”

“I won’t go after Jack on my own. I promise.”

A shadow falls across you. You both flinch, but it’s only a future version of yourself, fully healed. He gives you a thumbs up. You see Rose’s expression flicker with frustration and you know she hadn’t meant to keep her promise, but she will now. You make a mental note to head into the past as soon as you’re healed.

Rose picks up your sword.  


* * *

  
**Equius**

The tunnels are quiet after everyone else leaves. It’s bright in here, with the sun streaming through the hole Aradia left in the ceiling, but you’re tucked back in the shadows.

Nepeta’s body has grown as cold as a sea dweller’s. You know it’s uncouth to hang onto her body like this—death is for the weak and the lower classes, and a proper troll knows that mourning should be brief—but you are _danged tired_ of being proper.

She would want to be left in the woods near her hive, you think, where the wild animals can consume her corpse. That will be a difficult journey, and it’s one you won’t be able to make if Jack destroys the world. But you can’t fight. You couldn’t protect the troll who mattered most to you. How can anyone expect you to help save the world?

A shadow flickers over the hole in the ceiling. The hole is too bright to look at, so you keep your eyes lowered until a pair of shoes touches down on top of the rubble in front of you.

“Equius,” says Aradia. You jerk your head up.

Her skin is soft gray, not metal, and her horns are graceful red-orange-yellow curves of keratin. She is dressed in god tier clothes, and her wings are taut red membranes. She is beautiful and alive and a _complete stranger_.

She kneels down next to you, her knees smudging in the gray dust. “You can’t stay down here,” she says.

“Please leave,” you say quietly. You expect to see hurt in her expression, and you steel yourself for it, but instead she just looks at you with a sad smile.

“It isn’t safe. Not with everything falling down up on the surface. You’ll be buried.”

“You’re alive now. You have no need of me,” you say.

“I didn’t stay with you because you were a good mechanic.” This time her smile is fond. There is such _expression_ in her face. Even her voice has more depth. If you were to touch her, she’d be warm, not from the sun heating her metal but from the red blood pumping in her veins. She turns her gaze to Nepeta. “You’ll see her again, you know. There are dream bubbles, now that Jack has broken down the wall between our universes. You can see her there.”

“I failed her,” you say.

“Perhaps,” she replies. “But this certainly isn’t helping. Here.” She reaches out a hand to you. “That body isn’t her anymore. She has moved on. Once this is over, I’ll help you find a place to put her, but we still have work to do.”

You hesitate, then finally put Nepeta down in the rubble, out of the sunlight. Your shirt is sticky with her blood. You are covered in olive. You reach up and let Aradia pull you to your feet. She’s stronger than she looks, and her hand is as warm as you imagined.  


* * *

  
**Karkat**

“Over here!” Sollux shouts, and before you even have a chance to respond, he plucks you and Tavros up in a fist of psionics and carries you over to where he and Jade are sitting. Terezi and Vriska have joined them. Terezi is helping Jade bandage her arm.

The green bubble implodes with an ear-splitting crack, and when it does, the aircraft is gone, along with a thousand square meters of ocean. The water rushes to fill the sudden pit, and for the moment the palace is left like a finger sticking into the sky, its sea-slimed lower walls touching air for the first time in a millennia. Then the ocean slops up and around it and a wave crashes over the docks, splattering you with spray.

Jack rises from the ocean, dripping water and blood. The second aircraft in the water is shooting at him, and two more in the sky are firing their thrusters to maneuver closer. Jack’s Green Miles lash out like a ripperwasp striking, impaling the aircraft in the water with a dozen bolts of light before withdrawing and then stabbing it with a dozen more. When the remains of the aircraft are spreading across the water in a flaming slick of oil, Jack turns his attention to the next two ships.

“Good,” Sollux says. “Let them all kill each other.”

“Tighter than that,” Jade says to Terezi, who’s bandaging the gunshot wound. “Trust me. If there’s one thing my grandfather taught me, it’s how to deal with wounds. I’ll be okay.”

“You had him for a little while,” you say to Tavros. “Do you think you can do it again?”

“That was you, Pupa?” Vriska says.

“It was hard,” he says, frowning up at the sky. “I could only control half his brain. The problem was that he was, uh, distracted? When he got shot. It was too much to keep controlling him. I could do it again, but if you attacked him while I was doing it, I’d lose control.”

“Sollux, can you grab him when Tavros gets him down close enough?” you say.

“Not if he can teleport,” Sollux says. “I can hold him down as long as he’s here, but I can’t stop him from teleporting.”

“He’s half dog, right?” Vriska says. “That means he’s half carapace too.”

“I thought you could only mind control other trolls,” you say.

“Well yeah,” Vriska says. “I don’t know if I could mind control a carapace. But when I tried it on the humans, I could put them to sleep. What if I could do the same to Jack? Then the only part of him that’s awake is the dog part, and Tavros should be able to handle something _that_ simple.”

“It might help,” Tavros says cautiously.

Another one of the Imperial Fleet crashes down into the water, torn into ragged pieces. The aircraft at the docks is on fire, and two more of the Fleet in the air are heavily damaged.

There is an ear-splitting whine as the Battleship Condescension opens its weapons bay doors. You don’t even get to see what’s inside, because Jack spins toward the ship. A searing green light flares around him and then the bubble begins to expand outward.

You barely notice Dave, Rose and John touch down next to you. The leg of Dave’s pants is shredded, and John’s shirt has a hole right in the middle of his chest, showing unblemished pink monkey flesh beneath it.

“Trouble coming,” says Dave. He’s looking down the street. Two VAs are rolling toward you. The heat off the pavement makes them seem like mirages, wobbly and uncertain.

“If we’re going to do it, we have to do it fast,” Terezi says, equipping her sword cane and standing.

“He’s too far away,” Tavros says. “We need to get his attention.”

The green bubble reaches the surface of the Battleship Condescension, swallowing one prong of its trident. The lower curve of the bubble is slicing into the ocean. Jack is hidden somewhere at the center of it all.

The first VA slams to a stop ten feet away from you. The second one is close behind. John blasts them both with a gust of wind but it does little more than make the VAs rock back and forth. Terezi helps Jade brace her rifle on her shoulder as the doors to the VAs open.

Chucklevoodoos descend on you all, and then Ahab’s Crosshairs fires twice in quick succession. Before you can rejoice at the rescue, however, more laser rifle fire flash burns the pavement in front of you, this time coming from the opposite direction. You’ve been surrounded.

Jade lets off a few quick shots, hissing a curse at the recoil. Sollux rips a rifle out of one soldier’s hands with his psionics, and uses it to hit another soldier in the face. John has better luck knocking away soldiers with his gusts of wind. You equip your sickle, as laughably ineffective as it is in long range combat. Dave, next to you, draws his sword.

Someone screams nearby. It’s a troll soldier. Around the corner comes Equius, his hand around a soldier’s throat. He throws the soldier to the ground so hard that the troll bounces. Aradia is with him, and she’s… alive?

“Hold them off,” Rose says to you and Dave, grabbing your attention. “Don’t let anyone get too close.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dave drawls.

Rose turns her attention to Tavros and Vriska. “Get ready. Don’t let yourselves be distracted.”

“I’ve been controlling minds for _sweeps_ ,” Vriska says. “I can handle this.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Terezi says to Rose.

“I’m harder to kill than you are,” Rose replies. She holds out her hand. Terezi tosses Rose her sword cane.

“Jade, honey?” Rose says, unsheathing the sword. “I want you to scream.”

Jack is there before Rose can even finish touching the cane to Jade’s neck. You watch the sword erupt from Rose’s throat and then Rose drops to the ground, dead.

Sollux is the quickest to react, and red and blue psionics whip around Jack’s shoulders. In an instant, Jack is standing on the other side of him, and his sword is buried in Sollux’s chest, cracking through his thoractic struts.

Then, as he begins to pull the sword out, he slows. He shakes his head as if he’s trying to shake off an annoying insect. His head turns toward Tavros and he pulls the sword free of Sollux.

You raise your sickle high above your head and bring it down hard on Jack’s wrist. His chitin cracks but you can’t shear through it. You raise your sickle again but Jack spins away.

“Vriska,” Tavros calls frantically.

“Shh.” Her brow is furrowed in concentration.

Jack shakes his head again and then snarls. Red and blue psionics crackle around his wrists again. Sollux is on the ground, his hands clamped tight to the wound in his chest, but his eyes are open. Jack whirls on him, trying to yank free, but he can’t teleport right now. The look in his eyes is purely bestial.

You swing the sickle again, and this time the blade does its job. You slice clean through the chitin at his wrist joint. His hand falls to the ground, and with it, the Black Queen’s ring.

His wings flicker out of existence. The tentacles disappear. The Green Miles in the sky stops abruptly. He is abruptly just a man, just like the one you used to call a friend. All that arcane power is gone.

Terezi cuts his throat.  


* * *

  
**Feferi**

Her Imperious Condescension Meenah Peixes circles you like a shark. It’s so dark  that all you can see is the cool green smear of her phosphorescence tracing a lazy line around you. You have your own phosphorescence: a flush of it on the underside of your aural fins, just like hers. Of course it’s just like hers. You’re her descendent, as similar as two trolls can possibly be.

“I used to be thrilled when a descendant of mine reached adulthood,” the Condesce says. Her voice is smooth, like a rock worn down by the waves until it has no imperfections. How old is she? A thousand sweeps? Ten thousand? “I thought it meant I would actually be faced with a challenge.”

“Did it not happen often?” you ask politely. You refuse to turn to keep her within your sight. You wouldn’t truly be able to see her if she attacked you anyway, and you don’t want her to know she frightens you, even if she probably is already aware.

“Successors are worthless if they can’t survive a few assassination attempts,” the Condesce says carelessly. “Anyone who survived my tests long enough to be classified by the drones was worthy of my attention.”

“Thank you,” you say.

She laughs. “I stopped wasting my time on that a thousand sweeps ago. You’ve never faced my tests.”

A cool current of water unfurls over your shin, tickling you. You can taste the salt from the Condesce’s exhaled water. One of Gl'bgolyb's tentacles touches your hair. You want to lean in to her, but you don’t.

“Why did you stop?”

Her voice is behind you now. “What use are descendants to the undying?”

You face the blackness ahead of you. Gl'bgolyb is there, her massive beak closed. “You can die.”

“Are you sure? Name the Condescension who came before me.”

Of course you can’t. You know your history—maybe not as well as Eridan, but well enough—and you don’t even know when the Condesce was hatched. If there are any surviving records of that time, they are well hidden.

“Everything can die,” you say instead.

“Yes.”

The only warning you have is a rush of water sliding over your skin. You flinch away blindly, not even sure what direction it’s coming from. Something cuts sharply through the water.

no

“How dare you,” says the Condesce. She sounds furious, and also much further away from you than she just was.

youwillnottouchmydaughter

“I am your daughter,” she replies.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” you say.

“The blink of an eye,” she snaps. “A few hundred sweeps.”

youleftme

“I came back.”

iwasalone

“I was conquering _worlds_.”

toofar

“I will not limit our race to conquering worlds only within earshot.”

mydaughterhasneverleftme

“She will.” The Condesce is closer again, though not as close as she was. “One way or another, she will.”

“I’ll never be like you,” you say.

She laughs. “I agree.”

“You’re what’s wrong with this species,” you say. “So focused on conquering and killing that you’ve forgotten to pay attention to the trolls you’re using as cannon fodder.”

“Oh, what idealism,” she murmurs. “How refreshing.”

“You never change,” you say. “You don’t age. Just like the drones, who can never be anything new because they’re just clones of the mother grub. Alternia doesn’t need people making the same mistakes they’ve always made and never learning from the consequences.”

“You’re different?”

“I plan to be.”

“And when you’re my age, and you’ve seen ten thousand generations of trolls hatch and pail and die whether they’ve been treated well or ill, and the Alternian Empire has stagnated for lack of a firm hand to guide it, what then?”

“That will be for my descendant to decide,” you say.

She snorts. “Eight sweeps old, and so very wise,” she says dryly.

“I would like to ask you to step down,” you say.

She laughs. You’d expected it, though not quite this level of hilarity. She laughs so hard that it takes her a few minutes to respond. “Step down?” she says finally, and then dissolves into giggles again.

“And if not, I challenge you to a duel!”

That sends her off into another fit. Finally she recovers enough to gasp, “Absolutely.”

“To the death,” you add.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You equip your trident. You can’t see well enough to see whether she does the same, but you trust Gl’bgolyb to keep her from attacking you before you’re ready.

“What will you do if you win this duel?” you ask.

“After that speech, do you have to ask?”

“You’ll leave again.”

“I must lead the vanguard.”

“When will you come back?”

You think she smiles. “In the blink of an eye.”

youwillleaveme

“I always return.”

youwilltakemydaughterfromme

“Eventually you’ll have another wiggler to raise.”

somanysweeps

“You’re as immortal as I am, darling.”

notimmortal

There is a swish of something moving through the water, and then a noise that ends abruptly. You feel it in your gills, and when you inhale, you taste the slow spreading stain of tyrian purple.

justold


	29. Chapter 29

**Tavros**

The world doesn’t end.

You hadn’t really been thinking it would, except for the part where you definitely were. It’s not like the end of the world was an unprecedented event, after all, and things never work out for the best. But somehow you’re still here, and Alternia is still here.

And the Imperial soldiers are here.

Everyone is watching Feferi climb out of the water, carrying the Condesce’s corpse over her shoulder. You’ve always known Feferi was strong—as the highest of highbloods, she would have to be—but the way she effortlessly transfers the adult body of Her Imperious Condescension to the ground is breathtaking. The water is already evaporating off them in streamers in the hot sunlight.

“I think this means I’m the one in charge now,” Feferi says.

For a long moment you think that it’s not going to work. The soldiers who have sheltered behind their VAs are waiting. One good shot could take out Feferi, if they really wanted it. But of course, Gl’bgolyb is still out there, and without the Condesce around, no one can stop the Vast Glub but Feferi. And for once the hemospectrum is working in your favor. Feferi outranks everyone in the universe right now, and she looks far too much like the former Condesce to risk pissing her off.

“Put down your weapons,” Feferi says, her voice even. “Bring me the subjugglators in charge. I will speak to them.”

You see several of the soldiers retreat to do just that. The tension eases out of your group. Feferi continues to watch them for a moment, then approaches you all where you stand in the shadows.

“Sollux is hurt,” Karkat says to her as soon as she reaches you.

Sollux is a mess of mustard blood. The hole in his chest is still bleeding profusely, and his face is tight with pain. His eyes are shut. Feferi drops to her knees next to him.

“After him, can you check on Rose?” John says. He’s sitting on the ground next to her, hugging his knees. His eyes are wide. Dave is sitting behind Rose, holding her head in his lap. Jade crouches next to them. Rose’s throat is still torn and bloody from Jack’s sword. The blood is turning from mutant to rust as it dries.

“She’ll wake up,” Dave says. “Just give her some time.”

Jade looks at him, then down at Rose, and says nothing, taking Rose’s limp hand into her own.

Gamzee slinks up behind you. There is indigo blood running down his face and neck from some injury, but when he sees you looking at him, he smiles. “Hey, Tavbro,” he whispers. “We did it.”

You take his hand, even though it’s sticky with blood. His hands are actually warm from the heat of the day.

Terezi bends down and picks up the amputated hand of Jack. She tugs the four-pronged ring off his finger and then drops his hand again. The gold of the ring glints in the sunlight as she turns it over in her hand.

“Equius?” she says, holding it out. Aradia takes it from Terezi’s hand and gives it to Equius, who stares down at it.

“That’s a lot of power,” Eridan says. When Feferi gives him a look, he adds, “I don’t mean I want it! But you’re gonna be running an Empire.”

“Get rid of it,” says Feferi. Equius plucks each of the four orbs off the ring, flicking them away, and then pinches the ring flat. The metal snaps at both ends.

“So what now?” Karkat asks warily. He looks down the street, where the soldiers are scurrying about and a couple subjugglators have appeared. “They’re not going to welcome us as heroes.”

“No, they’re not,” Feferi says, helping Sollux sit up. “They’re not going to be happy with any of us, but right now there’s nothing they can do about that. Until they figure out a way around us, we have time to keep going ahead with our plan.”

She moves over to Rose, then looks uncertainly at Dave. “She’s god tier,” Feferi says. “If she’s going to wake up, she has to do it on her own.”

“She was holding Jade hostage,” Dave says. “That wasn’t heroic. It was just a trick.”

“A trick to lure Jack down within range so we could kill him,” Jade says carefully, looking up at him. “She knew he would probably kill her. That was why she didn’t let Terezi do it.”

“She can’t do this again,” Dave insists. “It’s like she’s trying to win the award for most successful suicide missions. She can’t keep doing this.”

“Dave, I think…” John’s voice wavers. “I don’t think she’s coming back.”

“We’ll take her back home,” Jade says. She looks up at Feferi, then around to all the rest of you. Her eyes are wet with colorless tears. “I think I might come back, though, if it’s okay? I want to help. I don’t really have much left back at home.”  


* * *

  
The kids leave the way they arrived, through the gateway in the tunnels. The gate is choked with rubble and debris, but it doesn’t take too long to clear it away.

“We can close it for now, and reopen it when you want to come back,” says Kanaya. “We’ll put it in a better place next time.”

“It may be a few weeks,” Jade says. “There will be funerals.” She looks down at Rose, who is laying on a stretcher, wrapped in a white sheet.

Kanaya kneels next to Rose and touches her face through the fabric. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to speak with you in person,” she says quietly. “I enjoyed our conversations as well.”

John rubs at his eyes. “We’ll all come back,” he says to Karkat. “I just have to check on my dad first. Then I’ll be back. I want to help you guys.”

“Will you?” Terezi asks Dave curiously.

You can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Of course. I gotta collect on those promises you made, right?” It’s a hollow joke, but Terezi laughs anyway. She leans in and kisses him on the cheek.

John takes the front of the stretcher. Dave takes the back. Jade follows them through the portal, then turns back to face you all. Kanaya does the same. Behind Jade, you see green fields and warm yellow light of a lazy summer morning.  


* * *

  
Because that’s the thing: the world hasn’t ended, and things are continuing in just the way they were before. There’s no epic reward for finishing the Game once and for all. Maybe there was at one point, back when you finished the Game the first time and stood in front of that door. Then Bec Noir showed up and destroyed everything, and that was it. No reward for you. If there had ever been a reward for the humans, some new universe that they had created where they were meant to live as gods, it was lost when the Scratch reset everything.

So you won’t get to start over. You’re stuck with what you have, as broken and frustrating as it is. In a way, you’re glad. You cut off your legs once, with the idea that they were useless and you were getting something better. You wouldn’t make that choice again. Starting over with a clean slate is appealing, but dangerously so. It’s too easy to repeat your mistakes when you don’t have to live with the consequences.

Gamzee’s hive is big enough for the group of you for now, especially since Feferi stripped many of the upper echelon of subjugglators of their ranks. A proper new reign starts with the execution of the old guard, but Feferi has decided to leave it up to the public, so all of them will stand trial. It’s mostly symbolic, but that’s not a bad thing. Never underestimate the power of a symbol when it’s broadcast across the entire Alternian Empire.

That first night, after the humans leave, you all sit in the recreation block of Gamzee’s hive. You’re exhausted and shellshocked and sore. Equius won’t speak to Eridan, or even look in his direction. Oddly, Terezi won’t speak to him either. You would have thought she was too pragmatic for the cold shoulder, but she and Nepeta were close. Eridan may have fought hard against the enemy today, but he had done far too much to be forgiven so soon. Karkat is the only one who will sit by him, but you think even Karkat is torn in his feelings. Everything is too raw and new.

Gamzee is sprawled as boneless as a cat on the couch, blinking slowly. The chucklevoodoos that he used today have drained him. You can’t stop yourself from touching him, either by leaning on his arm or holding his hand or just bumping into him every once in a while. You honestly don’t know if he’s okay. He will be, you think, if he’s given enough time to clear his head from all the subjugglators’ brainwashing. You’re not going to give up on him by any means. It’ll be hard, though, and it will take a while.

Equius is leaving tonight with Nepeta’s body, to bring it to a final resting place. Aradia is going with him. It will be nearly the same journey in reverse as yours and Karkat’s, although there won’t be drones.

Sixty-three nights ago, you ran away from your hive. It seems like it was a lifetime ago. In less than a sweep, you’ll be old enough to leave this planet for good. You’d never have thought you’d make it this far, but now here you are. The only problem now is that you can still see how much further you have to go.

You take a deep breath. Karkat catches your eye from where he’s sitting across the room. He looks tired too, but his mouth quirks slightly in something that for him is almost a smile. You smile back and then you both look away again.

The world didn’t end, and you’re going to have to live with that.

But you think you’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THIS. I am truly blown away by the response this fic has gotten. I'm sorry I can't reply to all the comments, but I read and appreciate each and every one. Thank you all for sticking with this massive fic and for being such a great audience.
> 
> I want to especially thank nukakitsune ([here](http://nukakitsune.tumblr.com/post/24421197420/from-the-recent-chapter-of-this)) and dethronedhierophant ([here](http://dethronedhierophant.tumblr.com/post/26975725492/land-of-regrets-and-second-chances-chapter-25-by) and [here](http://dethronedhierophant.tumblr.com/post/28145323801/land-of-regrets-and-second-chances-chapter-28)) for their awesome fanart. If anyone else has drawn any, please let me know! You can contact me on [Tumblr](http://msgrdctd.tumblr.com/).
> 
> And finally, this fic would not have been possible without my darling beta [shellfishDimes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shellfishDimes). Sorry I couldn't squeeze in some more makeouts for you, Lyns.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Warmth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/582831) by [gloatingraccoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloatingraccoon/pseuds/gloatingraccoon)




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